CIHM Microfiche Series (■Monographs) ICIMH Collection de microfiches (monographies) Canadian Initituta for Historical Microraproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions historiquas Technical and Bibliographic Notes / Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming are checked below. Coloured covers / Couverture de couleur □ Covers damaged / Couverture endommag^ □ Covers restored and/or laminated / Couverture restaur^e et/ou pellicul^e Cover title missing / Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps / Cartes gdographiques en couleur a I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations / Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black) / Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) n D D a D Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material / Reli§ avec d'autres documents Only edition available / Seule Edition disponible Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin / La reliure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distorsion le long de la marge int^rieure. Blank leaves added during restorations may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming / II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout^es lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela ^tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 film6es. Additional comments / Commentaires suppl^mentaires: L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemptaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exem- plaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du point de vue bibli- ographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modifteation dans la m^tho- de normale de filmage sont indk^uds ci-dessous. I I Coloured pages / Pages de couleur I I Pages damaged / Pages endommagtes D Pages restored and/or laminated / Pages restaur^s et/ou pellicul^es Q Pages discoloured, stained or foxed / Pages dteolor^s, tachet^es ou piques I I Pages detached / Pages ddtach^es [\/\ Showthrough/ Transparence I I Quality of print varies / D D Quality in^gale de I'impression Includes fuppiLr n; itary material / Compren j '! j la.. riel suppl6mentaire Pages whol.y or jjartially obscured by en-ata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image / Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6\6 film^es k nouveau de fa9on k obtenir la meilleure image possible. Opposing pages with varying colouration or discolourations are filmed twice to ensure the best possible image / Les pages s'opposant ayant des colorations variables ou des decolorations sont film^es deux fois afin d'obtenir la meilleure image possible. This Hem la filmed at the reduction ratio checked below / Ce document eat film6 au taux de rMuctlon indique ci-deaaoua. lOx 14x 18x 22x 26x 30x ■_■ 12x 16x 20x 24x 9Rv 99ir Tht copy filmtd h«r« has b««n raproducvd thanks to tha ganarosity of: National Library of Canada Tha imagas appaaring hara ara tha bast quality possibia considaring tha condition and lagibility of tha original copy and in kaaping with tha filming contract spacif icationa. Original copias in printad papar eovara ara fllmad baginning with tha front covar and andlng on tha last paga with a printad or illustratad impras- sion, or tha back covar whan approprlata. All other original copiaa arm filmad baginning on tha first paga with a printad or illustratad impras- sion. and anding on tha last paga with a printad or illuatratad imprassion. Tha last racordad frama on aach mieroflcha shall contain tha symbol — ^ (maaning "CON- TINUED"). or tha symbol V (maaning "END"), whichavar applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure ara filmed beginning in the upper left hend corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: L'exemplaire I'tlmi fut reproduit grice I ta ginttotixt da: BIbliothSque nationals du Canada Les images suiventes ont *xi reproduites avac la plus grand soin. compta tenu de la condition at da la nettet« de l'exemplaire film*, er en eonformit* avac las conditions du contrat da filmaga. Lea axamplairaa originaux dont la couvarture en pap er eat imprim«e sont filmis en commencant par lo premier plat at an tarminant soit par la derni4re paga qui comporta une empreinte d impression ou d'iilustration. soit par la second plat, salon la caa. Toua les autrea axempiaires originaux sont film«s en commencant par la pramJAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impreasion ou d'iilustration at en terminant par la darniAre paga qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un das symboles suivants spparaitra sur la derniire image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE" le symbola V signifie "FIN". Les caitas. planches, tableaux, etc.. peuvent «tre Tilm*s A des taux da reduction diff*rents. Lorsqua la document est trop grand pour «tre reproduit en un seul clich*. il est film* * partir de I'angia sup*rieur gauche, de gauche * droite, at da haut an bas. en prenant le nombre d'imagea nicessaira. Las diagrammas suivants illustrent la m4thode. MKWXOrr MSOUJTION TIST CHAUT (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2| ^ APPLIED IIVHGE 165:5 East Ma,n Street Bochester. Ne» York ,,609 US* ("6) 482 - 0300 - PhoM (716) 288- 5989 - Fo» «ip mmmm THE QUEST OF THE BALLAD ''W 1Q r^" U k r^l 9 «A> ^ MACKEMZi THE QUEST OF THE BALLAD THE QUEST OF THE BALLAD BT W. ROY MACKENZIE VBorasBOM or nrousB, waihoiovoh onTuuiTT PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS PRINCETON LONDON : HUMPHREY M ILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITV PRESS 1919 PRftl Al IH- t^^C\^\,\<^l\^ yj^ PRIHCBTOR UMIYIMITT PBB88 PrittMtoB, N. J. PoUUhed, 181S Printed in the United Btste* of Amerio* To E. S. M. PREFACE There used to bi a literary affectation — a harmless and quite transparent one — which expressed itself in a prefa- tory announcement that one's book had been written, not for an astute and difficult public, but for one's own private solace and the amusement of one's small and charitable circle of friends. Though I have no mention of taking sanctuary in this timid pretext I have nevertheless a ve- hement realization, induced by the disouieting experience of reading the proof-sheets of the ensuing book, that I must fashion some (explanation that will seem to account for a conspicuous absence of plan. The truth is that my initial purpose was, not to write a book, but merely to i> produce, for any purpose that might ultimately be served, a few of my successive adventures with the ancient singers of ballads whose society I have eagerly courted during my summer vacations in Nova Scotia. The chepters, then, in which I follow a dim trail of chronological sequence are the expression of my first complete intention. But the popular baUad, even whea it is pursued through printed collections and song-books, impresses one in many ways by virtue of its variable and elusive personality, and when its character is fiu*ther enriched by a continued association with its natural companions, the singers, he would be dull indeed of soul who co.Jd pass it by without attempting to capture something of the secret of its habits. As a matter of fact I had not yet completed my brief chr' iological se- quence of chapters before I had become int led in t'le questions which have led to the topical discut;sions of the later chapters. These questions I have taken up in the or- der in which they have occiured to me. After the fifth vii Preface chapter I give one faint sign, and one only, of my latent regard for order, and that is the scarcely avoidable act of placing a picture of the decline of ballad-singing at the end of the book. But I must not utterly deny myself the right to that guerdon of praise which is so earnestly desired by every man who writes for publication. My constant pur- pose has been to portray, as faithfully as in me lies, the popular ballads which it has been my high privilege to en- counter in their natural state and the reserved b-it simple and profoundly human old men and women who are still maintaining them in that state. It is this purpose that is responsible for the inconsistency of my plan, and though the reader may esteem consistency a jewel he must needs agree that my purpose was a commendable one. The person who sets out in these latter days to collect and preserve the scattered ballads that are stiU living upon the earth must prepare to search wide and far, and must make sure that he is not easily to be discouraged. Even m communities where ballads are occasionally sung they are rarely known to the children of the present generation; nor need one turn hopefully to the fathers, for the cares of this world and the deceitf ulness oi riches have in a prac- tical age grown up in their minds and killed the good seed of the ballads which was lightly sown there in the days of their youth; but with a somewhat larger prospect of suc- cess one may seek out and question the grandfathers, if haply they have survived to a day which has provided so many duties and amusements to supplant the simple recre- ations of a bygone age. I speak out of my own almost uniform experience, and the persons who appear and re- appear in the following pages are, with the fewest excep- tions, men and women of three-score years and upwards. My collecting, to be sure, has all been done in Nova Scotia, and the situation there is not necessarily typical in all of its viit Pbeface details. There are still some districts where ballads are sung by children, but they are far removed from the world, and the children are not children of the twentieth century. My motive in writing this introduction is the convention- ally double one — to confess with an ostentatious humility the obvious defects in the book to follow, and to coEmiend, with an equally ostentatious moderation, its merits. I shall now proceed to the second phase. My book is almost free from taint of theory, and in its pages darkness is not ren- dered visible by any attempt of mine to solve the ballad problem. This is a negative cause for pride. The posi- tive and authentic cause oi which I boast is the admittance which has repeatedly been granted me to the companion- ship of a class of human beings almost unVnown and now swiftly disappearing from society. It is with this com- panionship and its fruits that I am solely concerned, and the pride which I have confessed is abated only when I compare my recollections with the pictures of them which have issued from my pen. In my first chapters I insist with a good deal of solemn unction upon the difficulty of persuading the ballad-singer to open his doov. But the comfort of the fireside is only enhanced for him who has first cooled his heels upon the doorstep, and in the chiaroscuro of my ballad-seeking memories the element of toil and hazard serves chiefly to accentuate my ensuing delight in the substantial reward of fresh ballads to add to thr growing tale. The grossest impediment in the whole enterprise, probably, is the me- chanical task of writing down ballads at lightning speed. The singer can rarely repeat his song slowly enough to permit one to write at a normal rate, and if I were to begin the canvassing of another district I should be compelled to recognize the advisability of forcing myself to the hideous preliminary task of mastering the science of shorthand. IX Pbeface But even while driving my fingers to the benumbing la- bour of copying sixty words to the minute I have many times experienced a swelling of the bosom at the loud ad- miration that I was evoking by my chirographic skill, a gift most lightly valued and utterly undistinguished in the conimunity of reading and writing modems which I in- habit dimng the nine months of the college year. There comes into my mind at this moment a recollection of one afternoon when I was tearing along over the blank sheets in a frenzied endeavor to keep pace with an old man who could repeat his ballads only if he kept his eyes tightly closed and proceeded without a single pause. His wife and her gossip from the next farmhouse sat by, and while I accomplished herculean tasks with my pen they regarded me with undisguised wonder and delight. "Will ye look at that man writin'I" cried the goodwife. "He's settin' there as easy and comfortable as if he was eatin' he's din- ner, an' see the way them songs is bein' writ downl" "Yes, yes," interrupted the neighbour with shrill ec- stacy, "he jist sets there smokin' he's pipe, an', O Lord, but aint he drivin' he's fingers over that paper I" I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much How to forget that learning, but, sir, now It did me yeoman's service. I shall presently be charged with having acquired from my ancient companions the senile habit of garrulity. In truth, I find that I have little to say by way of preface that I could not say with equal propriety in any of the chapters of my rambling book— with one important exception, which is this. I should never have had the persistence to ? ep my work going but for the aid and good cheer of my coadjutors, and of these I shall mention three, though I Pbeface can afford them only the smallest return for their services by a meagre prefatory acknowledgment. From the be- ginning of my labours my wife has had a far greater in- terest in the work and a far greater faith in the ballad- yielding possibilities of Nova Scotia than I have had. Many a time I should have allowed the whole matter to lapse but for her contagious enthusiasm and her practical aid in placating suspicious persons who would never have sung unless they had felt inclined to do so although the heavens had threatened to fall. My cousin, Dr. Owen Cameron, has also accompanied me on innumerable jour- neys to the huts where poor men lie. In my narration of these journeys I have striven to direct attention steadily upon the singers and have almost uniformly designated the visiting party by the colorless and half impersonal pro- noun "I", but the reader may substitute "the doctor and I" as often as he chooses. Many of the finest ballads *hat I quote and many of the singers to whose rich personali- ties I do such scanty justice would never have appeared in my pages at all without his help. And my aider and abet- tor in everything that I have done in the service of tbe popular ballad has been Professor Kittredge. In my student days he infected me with something of his own broadly human interest in folk-lore, he showed such gen- erous enthusiasm over my first scanty "finds" that I was forthwith emboldened to look for more, and he persuaded me to attempt my first brief essays in describing my ex- periences. If my "little book" of reminiscences is of in- terest to these and to my other coadjutors it shall not fail to justify itself in my sight. August, 1919. W.R.M. CONTENTS Preface v Chaptxb Onx The Last Refuge of the Ballad 1 ChafteeTwo The Way of the Collector 19 Chapter Thbkb My First Ballad Hunt 88 Chapter FouB The Discovery of Bob 42 Chapter Five Rimes of An Ancient Mariner 68 Chapteb Six Genuine Antiques v 85 Chapter Sstsn Types of Current Ballads 127 Chapter Eight The Inconstancy of the Ballad 185 Chapter Nine Native Songs and Traditions 196 Chaper Ten The Decline of Ballad Singing 227 ^ CHAPTER ONE The Latt Rxfuob op thx Ballad The persons faintly shadowed forth in this record are of a type which has long been absent from the places where the business of the world is transacted, and which is now disappearing from the face of the earth itself. Each year brings its increase of scholars and students to whom popular lore is a vital record of the beliefs of their fore- fathers, but the years produce few people in our time who accept as credible reports the tales and songs which schol- ars designate, somewhat condescendingly, as "folk-lore." It is gradually becoming impossible for the individual to remain unaffected by the main currrat of events. The countryside has been brought to the gates of the town, and the newspaper which appears on the breakfast-table of the urban tradesman has travelled by noon to the shep- herd's cot and the fisherman's hut. Now, it is axiomatic that he who reads the newspaper shall cease to be a per- petuator of folk-lore. Th aine qua non of the latter, in our time at least, is an aloofness from the world of prog- ress, a mellow retirement where the events of a bygone day are rather more near and familiar than are the noises of the great city which is understood to be flourishing in its iniquity somewhere far beyond the possibilities of man's travel. In this retreat the stories of yesterday are de- veloped today, and are not dispossessed by a set of new sensations freshly imported by the morning paper. And even those accounts which filter in from the great wor'.fi Tix£ Quest of the Ballad are distilled through the limbeck of the oral report until they take on something of the true nature of traditional legend. Let me give a brief example or two, modem in- stances of the way in which history was fashioned for our ancestors in the dim ages. In one of the sequestered vales of Nova Scotia there is living at the present time an ancient sage by the name of Peter Langille. His age is ninety-two, his habits of body and mind are active and vigorous, and his tongue is en- dowed with the gift of a simple and pictiu«sque eloquence. In his youth and prime he foUowed the sea, or rather the sea-coast, in one of the little schooners that used to ply their busy trade along the northern shores of Nova Scotia. Now in his green old age he goes fishing when the fishing is good, and when it is not he reposes in dignified ease by his £reside or in his dooryard, where he may usuaUy be found having a crack with one of the neighbors or ponder- ing alone upon the riddle of the painful earth. He is one of my friends and, in the brief glimpses of the summer vacation, one of my associates. One forenoon in the early days of the great war I walked over to Peter's cottage and inquired after the news. "De British," stated Peter with great calmness, "has won a tremendious victory over de Garmans." I was eager for details of the combat, but Peter was not to be rushed. "Set down," he said, "an' fill yer pipe, an' I'll give ye de pertickilars." Then, after I had loaded my pipe and settled my chair against the wall, he resiuned. "De vic- tory," he explained, "was won by an old Scotch gineral. He was at de head of five hunderd men, all wit' dere guns loaded an' lined up waitin' for de Garmans to come on. 'Now,' sez he to he's men, 'I wants ye all to stay quiet jist S The Last Refuge of the Ballad as I've drawed ye up, an' don't ye dar to fire a gun till I gives ye de word.' Purty soon de Garmans hove in sight an' come ragin' along firin' oflF dere guns as fast as dey could load dem. 'Keep still, boys,' sez de old gineral, 'tiU I gives ye de word.' So dey laid low till de Gannans gits wit'in good range, an' den de old gineral ups an' yells: •Now, boys, up wit' yer guns an' fire at dem I' Bang goes dere guns, every one o' dem at onct, an, oh God, but didn't dey slaughter dem Garmans! Five t'ousand o' dem went down, an' de ones dat was left hove away dere guns an* made fer de woods." To an American reader this stirring report will sound like a foolish bit of fiction stimulated by patriotic fervor in the mind of an illiterate countryman, a tale full of sound and fury, signifying nothing; but to the Canadian who is mindful of the early pages in his country's history it will mean something more. There are certain chapters in the political history of every country that are known only to the esoteric circle of readers, but the great military ex- ploits of a nation are familiar, in one form or another, to every member of that nation. In Canada it is only the student of affairs who can give you the story of Federa- tion, but every peasant there has his version of the battle on the plains of Abraham, the great fight in which Gen- eral Wolfe wrested the key of Canada from the French leader Montcahn and paid the price of victory with his life. A popular ballad tells us that Brave Wolfe drew up his men In a line so pritty On the Plains of Abraham Before the city. The Quest of the Ballad And in my own childhood I have heard an old ship-carpen- ter narrate the glowing tale, which he thus introduced: "Gineral Wolfe climbed de trecipice, camped on de Plains of Abraham, an' prayed for night or Bluteher to come." It must not be supposed that I have forgotten old Peter, who is sitting patiently by his kitchen stove smoking his pipe and musing on the prowess and skiD of the British soldiers at the front. I am merely evolving a pedantic ex- planation of Peter's remarkable report of the battle, and my explanation is this: A story of success to the British arms had ben reported in the community, and in the popu- lar consciousness undisturbed by alphabetical symbols the report bad taken on the outlines of a great British victory long celebrated in song and legend. The "old Scotch gineral," in short, had done exactly what Wolfe had done when he drew up his men to face the oncoming battalions of the French under Montcalm. In this simple tale we have an iUustration of the whole progress of folk-lore. The reports of the present are fashioned in the mould of popular history, and there is no recourse, as in the learned world, to the sanctified author- ity of the printed document. The great composite of fact and legend wrought by the ballad-maker and the popular historian has been produced in divers ways, and in its mingled warp and woof there are strands brought from many far countries. No student of folk-lore need be re- minded, for instance, that the popular ballads frequently present unauthorized versions of the tales of Holy Writ, and in Nova Scotia Biblical history often escapes from the Calvinistic fold and wanders in curious garments among untutored folk who receive theu- tales only through the true popular medium of oral transmission. In such cases The Last Refuge op the Ballad it comports itself in a way that would be quite new and strange to anyone who is imperfectly acquainted with the processes of legend. There comes to my mind a memory of one rainy after- noon that I spent in the lonely cabin of "Little Eph" which IS the aflFectionate nickname employed in Tatami- gouche to designate old Ephraim Tattrie. Little Eph was vahantly combating the gloom of the outer world by smgmg shanties, ballads, and other "songs of irood life " and one of them was "The Battle of AhiuL" Come aU you Britons, I pray give ear To these few lines I've brought you here. To these few lines I've brought you here', The victory gained at Ahna. Cho. Sing tantinaray ri til di day Sing tantinaray ri til di day To these few lines I've brought you here. The victory gained at Ahna. It was on September the twentieth day, In spite of all salt dash and spray We landed safe or c-;e Crimay All on the route for Ahna. Cho. Sing tantinaray, etc. All night we lay on the cold ground. No shade or shelter to be found. And while with rain we were ahnost drowned To cheer our hearts for Ahna. Cho. Sing tantinaray, etc The Quest of the Ballad Next morning a burning sun did rise Beneath the eastern cloudless skies, When our great chief Lord Raglan cries, "Prepare your march for Alma." Cho. Sing tantinaray, etc. When Alma's heights did heave in view The stoutest hearts it would subdue To see the Rooshians' monstrous crew On the towering heights of Alma. Cho. Sing tantinaray, etc. But when the heights we did command We boldly fought them hand to hand. The Rooshians could no longer staad Oiu* British charge at Alma. Cho. Sing tantinaray, etc. The Rooshians to Sebastopol fled Leaving their wounded and their dead. They thought next day the river nm red With the blood was spilt at Alma. Cho. Sing tantinaray, etc. The English I have heard them say They lost ten thousand men that day. While thirteen thousand Frenchmen lay In their bloody gore at Alma. Cho. Sing tantinaray, etc. This song is a paean of triumph, an exultant ode rathei than a plain narrative of the fight, and Li'^tle Eph quite 6 The Last Refuge of the Bali.ad properly felt thttt it devolved upon him to furnish more stark details than the song by itself afforded. "I'll tell ye," he explained, "how dat great victory over de Roo- sWans was gained. King WiUiam was leadin' de English, an' along about de end of de afternoon dey had de Roo- shians purty near licked, but not quite, an' jist den de sun started to set. Down went King William on he's knees an' prayed to God to hold de sun still fer a little while longer. Den he jumped onto he's feet an' grabbed he's sword and went at dem, an' God held de sun whei« it was till de Rooshians was well licked an' on de run like a drove of sheep. An* as soon as de fight was over de sun went down." A few pages back I felt constrained to offer a scientific exphmation of old Peter Langille's report of the battle "somewhere in France," but that was because the actual background of Peter's account was a bit of history which is the conmion possession of Canadians rather than of Americans. As a teacher of English literature I have learned that one must not lightly assume that those who read books have a common background of Biblical lore, and I have therefore some reason to suspect that I should render Little Eph's tale more luminous by the addition of a marginal gloss; but I shall pay my readers the compli- ment of taking it for granted that to do so would be quite superfluous, and if I make it necessary for a chance reader to look up his reference for Eph's exposition I shaU at least be doing him no harm. These brief excerpts from the conversations of Peter and of Eph are merely random illustrations of the point of view constantly maintained by the persons who sing popular ballads and to whom superstition and legend are The Que8t of the Ballad as the morning newspaper is to their more progressive fellow-creatures. Such persons are now exceedingly rare, and, as though they realized their value in a world which is soon to lose them altogether, they often make themselves most difficult of access, but they are nowadays the only true possessors of that precious gift handed down from ancient times, the song and story of the unlettered and imaginative folk. Behind the shelter of their closed doors they sing popular ballads which disappeared from public view many years ago, and which in many cases have come down to them through centuries of singing and recitation. My childhood was spent in a district which, as I now know, was a rich unworked mine of English and Scottish popular baUads. By kboring intermittently in this dis- trict for the last six or seven years I have painfully gath- ered a collection which is to me more precious than much fine gold; but the specimens in this collection have been found by minute search in strange and secluded places, by exploring the depths of the forest and descending into the caves of the ocean. Of the people who live in the various communities that I have ransacked, the great majority have neither heard of these ballads nor have ever suspected the hidden powers of the persons who sang them for me. In my youthful days there was one ballad which, by a sort of accident, emerged from the secret places where ballads were lurking, and which was captured and ex- hibited in civilized quarters as a vastly amusing curiosity. This was "The Butcher Boy," a song which by virtue of its lugubrious handling of a pathetic tale made a special appeal to nurse-maids, scullery-wenches, and sentimental ship-carpenters. But this species of pv>pularity would never have raised it from the subliminal region. The pro- The Last Refuge OF THE Ballad cess was accomplished in a much more effective way. A humble but resourceful man of ease taught it to his small son and basely instigated the hitter to prostitute the an- cient practice of minstrelsy by singing it to anyone who would give hrni a penny for the performance. The lad so lustily advertised his commodity that it soon became a regular amusement in the village to traffic with him on the street comers, and many persons who knew nothing and Wired as much about baUads learned this one and related It as a fine bit of unconscious humor. I have recently copied It down from the singing of one who regarded it with senousness, and shall now present it in order to illus- trate the sort of qualities that cause the ballad to be re- garded with merriment in civilized communities. Those who read it wiU be inclined to laugh rather than to weep, and wiU thus, perhaps, be able to understand the reticence of the present-day singer who loves and honors his baUads. In London town, where I did dwell, A butcher boy I loved him well. He courted me for many a day, He stole from me my heart away. I mind the time, not long ago. He'd follow me through frost and snow. But now he's changed his mind again. He'll pass my door and he won't come in. There is an inn in that same town, And there my love he sits him down. He takes a strange girl on his knee. And tells her what he once told me. The Quest of the Ballad But I can tell you the reason why: Because she's got more gold than I. But gold will melt and silver fly. She'll see the day as poor as I. I'll go upstairs and make my bed. "There is nothing to do," my mother said. My mother she has followed me, Saying, "What is the matter, my daughter dear?' Oh mother dear, you Lttle know What pains or sorrow or what woe. So get a chair and sit me down. With pen and ink I'll write all down. She wrote a letter, she wrote a song. She wrote a letter, she wrote it long. On every line she dropped a tear, At every verse cried, "Willie dearl" Her father he came home that night Enquiring for his heart's delight. He went up«^tairs, the door he broke. He found her hanging on a rope. He took a knife and cut her down. And in her bosom these lines he found: "Oh what a foolish girl was I To hang myself for a butcher boy. "Go dig my grave both wide and deep. Put a marble stone at my head and feet. And on my grave place a turtle dove. To show the world that I died of love." 10 Th£ Last Rkfuos of the Ballad It is hardly necessary to insist that this ballad waa com- posed with the utmost serioumess and with tiie most com- plete sympathy for the poor maid whose aflPections were basely trifled with by the thoughtless and deb in Uter d.y, the ^*«We „d th. oce-ianj .«rt««. which W.S^ «erf«i the rtroofc old emotion.. The* « rtuk f«u Witt . cnie innrtence, and he Kldom ado for an «i.Cr t-oj, though the «,pl«„,io„ i. ^ ,„ to^r "^ una very obviou. truth that simple amusement. «„ b. honestly appraised only by the .iSipr^of » musement. but we eamiot accept them h, the sSrit of «K p.r«»s for whom they we« originaUy phmnS We ~«m enhre «cori with the spiH, of Stev«C?^hiir: twden of Verses," composed by m educated and ex. Who adopted the Unguage, not of the chfld. but of the lor- hmself turns his hand to verse, we look upon the result mth merrmient, derision, or tendemess, „ tte Z^y be. but always with a distinct sen«= of ou^ ow^,^„SL'^ And p,ee«ely rimila, is our attitude towaT^^p^; loMoin maiden expresses her sorrow for the loss of h™ were pUced in the same tragic situation. For this ob- Vjousfy enough, we sophisticated per«,„s .« not t^ t blamed, any more th«, is the balUd-singer when he saisS tte supenonty in our bearing «,d refus^to ex"o« ^r T^' merrmient the song, which he loves «,S honors I Mn, of course, speaking in a general way of the up-to- date, newspaper-re^Jing world and its comfortabLLt 19 The Last Rxfuoe of thx Ballad of ttiperiority. In that world there are many nominal residents, like myself, who have developed for the old tales and songs of the folk a love which in its way is no less genuine than that of the few survivors of the folk them- selves. We are, to be sure, strongly influenced by our knowledge of the literature thai has been produced in our more conventional world, and constantly apply to the poetry of the folk a sort of criticism that would never oc- cur to the composers or singers themselves. But, on the other hand, we have the advantage of being able to view this poetry in the light— though it is often a very dim one— of the historical or social atmosphere in which it was actu- aUy composed, whereas the singer himself, if his ballad has come from the distant past, can attach his interest only to its intrinsic qualities. But this plea that I am making for myself as a genuine lover of popular ballads is not one that would admit me to the confidence of the ballad-singer. It is necessary that I should convince him in a much more simple and human fashion that he has found in me a person with old-fash loned tastes and enthusiasms. The difficulties of the bai- lad-coUector have their rise in the task of discovering a potential singer, and they have their continuance in the task of persuading him, ^en he is discovered, to reveal his art to one who is in outward appearance only a super- cihous visitor from the conventional world; and thus it de- volves upon the coUector to utilize all his gifts of cunning and persuasion upon the slightest suspicion that he may be m the neighboriiood of a concealed ballad. In my own collection of "goodly songs wid baUets" the one that I view with the greatest pride is a composite version of the old baUad of "Little Musgrave." Under the title of "Lit- is Tmt QuxiT OF THi Ballad tie M.th* Grove" it IumI been «mg to me. when I wm • tad. by tn old nuu, in the neighborhood where I hmve iince beenwoi^mgM.coUector. But when I begin my aeuch for balUd. my old friend had tran.fermi*S .Jt,Tl month, my strictest inquiries faUed to produce another smger who could repeat the performance. IshaUhareoc »«trch. there were at least three persons in the community «reoldhaJkd. The composite version I shaU now quote nJ^J^ * ^"f *P**""^ °^ *^« *«^»«»«» of folk-lore that he. hidden and guarded, in the memories of the few sur- vivors of the old singing days. 'Twas on a day. a high holiday. The best day of the old year, men little Matha Grove he went to church The holy word to hear. Some came in in diamonds of gold. And some came in in pearls. And among them all was little Matha Grove The handsomest of them alL Lord Daniel's wife who was standing by, On him she cast her eye. Saying, "This very night, you little Matha Grove, You must come with me and lie." "I wouldn't for the world, I wouldn't for my life, ^ 14 Tbs Last Ripuea ov not Bai±ad For feu- Lord Daniel ihould hear. For I know you are Lord Daniel's wife By the ring on your hand you do wear.** "Well, what if I am Lord Daniel's wife As you suppose me to be? Lord Daniel's away to the Xew Castle King Henry for to sec." So the little foot-page was standing by, And he heard all that was said. And he took to his heels to the river-side. And he bended his breast and he swum. And when he came to Lord Daniel's bower. He knocked so hard at the ring. There was none so ready as Lord Daniel For to rise and let him in. "What news, what news, my little foot-page. Do you bring unto me?" "This very night little Matha Grove Is in bed with your wedded lady." "If this be true, be true unto me. Be true you bring imto me, I have an cmly daughter dear. And your wedded lady she shall be. "If this be a lie, a lie unto me, A lie you bring unto me, I'll cause a gallows to be rigged. And hangM you shall be." 15 The Quest op the Ballad So he put the bugle to his mouth, And he sounded loud and shrill: "If there's any man in bed with another man's wife, It is time to be hastening away." So Lord Daniel he ordered up all his men. And he placed them in a row. "What's that, what's that?" said little Matha CxTOve, "For I know the sound so well It must be the sound of Lord Daniel's bugle," . ' "Lie still, lie still, you little Matha Grove And keep me from the cold. It's only my father's shepherd boy That's driving sheep down in the fold." So they hustled and they tumbled till they both And nothing more did they say Till Lord Daniel stood by their bedside Little Matha for to slay. "How do you like my bed ?" said he, "And how do you like my sheet? And how do you like my wedded lady That lies in your arms and sleeps?" "Well do I like your bed," said he, WeD do I like your sheet. Better do I like your wedded lady. That lies in my arms and sleeps." 16 The Labt Refuoe of the Ballad "Get up, get up, you little Hatha Grove, And some of your clothes put on, That it can't be said after your death That I slew a naked man." "How can I get up," little Matha replied, "And fight you for my life, ^Vh( a you have two bright swords by your side. And I have ne'er a knife?" "If I have £wo bright swords by my side. They cost me deep in purse. And you shall have the best of them. And I shall have the worst. "And you shall have the very first blow. And I shall have the other. What more, then, could I do for you If you -"^ere my own bom brother?" The veiy first blow that Matha Grove struck He wounded Lord Daniel sore. The very first blow Lord Daniel struck, Little Matha could strike no more. "Curs^ be my wifel" said he, "And cursM be my hand I They have caused me to slay the prettiest lad That ever trod Enghmd's knd." He took his lady by the hand. He led her through the plain. And he never spoke mother word Till he split her head in twain. 17 The Quest of the Ballad He put his sword against the ground. The point against his heart. There never was three lovers That sooner did depart. While it is still possible to find such baJiads as this in the possession of humble folk who shaU say that the ballad coUector's function is a barren one? He will have to search far and wide if he is to find many such relics as the one I have just shown, for as surely as the good knight's sword has turned to rust so surely is the popukr singing of bal- lads ceasing to be heard in the land. But as this ancient custom approaches its dissolution the more need is there that one should hasten to record something of its oper- ation, for when the singers and historians of the folk disappear, as they presently wiU, we shall have left only a few printed versions of their lore, dry bones from that great body of song and story that once lived and moved among forgotten people of the earth. 18 CHAPTER TWO The Way of the Collector I wish to proceed, as soon as I conveniently can, to a rough narrative account of my first experiences with bal- lad-singing folk. This account will lead me back in mem- ory to the time— six or seven years ago— when I set out to recover, if possible, some versions of the ancient Scotch ballads which I had heard when I was a boy, and which were freshly brought to my mina n my college days by a study of Professor Child's collection. Though the path which I trod in those first years of my quest was beset with shards and flint, in the retrospect it seems fair and flowery and retrospect will inevitably play its mollifying part in my narrative. Therefore I deem it just to bend my atten- tion for a moment to a deliberate recognition of the diflS- culties of ballad coUecting, and, in the sacred interests of verisimilitude, to insert a preliminary' chapter which shaU expound and illustrate some of the trials which any honest collector must prepare to meet— and to overcome. The situation, then, that faces the would-be coUector of popular ballads is one that, if it tempt him at aU, must tempt him by reason of its abundant opportunities for de- veloping his faculties of ingenuity and persistence. He must bravely accept the two main discouraging facts, first that only in the rarest cases do ballads stiU exist as a popular tradition, and, secondly, that the few old men and women who are familiar with them are excessively unwill- mg to reveal this familiarity to anyone but a trusted friend 19 The Quest of the Ballad or relative. The rude winds of neglect, scorn, and con- tumely have so chilled the custom that its few loyal ad- herents instinctively feel that it is for them to give it pro- tection and warmth at their own hearths, and to bar the door against the blasts from the outer world, which may bring inquisitive strangers who desire to hear ballads sung in order to hold them up to ridicule. The worst possible manner in which to begin the siege of a potential singer would be to approach, salute, and make known the object of the visit,— namely, to procure old songs. The ardent lover might just as well begin his courtship by a downright proposal for the hand of his mistress. By this bold stroke the lover might conceivably have his hopes crowned on the instant, but he would be much more likely to prolong his courtship by several months, or even to render its continuance inadvisable. And no bashful maid was ever more coy or more elusive than is the hoary-headed vendor of outworn ballads. Any display of impetuosity on the part of the collector would immediately lay him under the suspicion of being a seeker after that sort of pleasure which is stimulated by the spec- tacle of a fellow-creature making a fool of himself. He would be reproved,— and even when exhibiting the most punctilious deportment he frequently is reproved,— by the searching question, "So ye just thought ye'd come around to have a little fun with me, did ye?" The collector, then, who keeps his eye on the ultimate goal will realize that he must take his time and cover his ground before he can hope to reach that goal. He will open the conversation by discoursing gravely on topics ju- diciously selected from the five following classes: weather, crops, sickness, politics, and religion. Thus he will convey so V\ The Way of the Collectob the impression that he is a civil, trustworthy person, and not a mere thoughtless tormentor of the old and vene;able. After this jmpression is driven home the coUector wiU gmde his sober conversation towards a series of reflections upon ttie songs of the present and those of the past, in which he will voice his conviction that the old is bet^^« old-fashioned sort. Then he may. with what skiU Heav«^ Z Sr ^u"' '^V^' ^""^^''^ ^^<* h« ^ been hold- mg m the leash; and he will, if my experiences are typical ^r ^^""t '"'^'''^ *" ^'' "^' God bless^e. i might a been able to sing one or two o' them old son^ th^' TH ' T^' ' '°°« ^'" '^^^ ^^ I'-e thoug^W th«n. The only man around these parts that wouldlkely mmd of a^ songs now is old John Kemiedy. an' if ye dnve straight along the «««i for two miles, an' then turn to yer nght down the shore road ye'U come to whereT hves." Whereupon I should neither drive two mil^s do,^ h^! T .r' y^ *»™ to my right down the shore ro^ but^ould remam in my seat and by degrees extract J^ my mside pocket a lead-pencil and a writing-pad. prepar- rJt ^" S' T' ''' '""^ ^^"'^^^ '' *he i^ders^aSt just received. This process is given as an imaginary on^ «waM of h^est endeavor is immediate and complete. Sandy Macdonald. As I entered the kiteh^nSa^^f SI The Quest of the Ballad ognized me from his seat behind the stove. "Ah yes," he beUowed, "you're the professor, ain't ye? My God, man, but ye must be rich!" I responded with the cautious mod- eration which, I think, should always be assumed by men of my profession when they discuss personal aflfairs of this sort, but Sandy was not to be shaken from his posi- tion. His emphatic conclusion was, "Ye must be buildin' up a great fortune." In the elevation of spirit brought on by this heartening assurance I was moved to remark unto Sandy that when travelling in the rain I fi«quently car- ried a pocket-vessel containing a well-known Scottish re- storative, as an antidote to the grosser forms of dampness. My information elicited another stentorian avowal, and this time I could not reasonably dissent. "Hai" roared my host, "and, by the Lord, ye're a gentleman tco!— Sit down," he added, "and I'U do what I can for ye." Sandy did not have many ballads at his command, but of such as he had he gave freely. But I must on no account allow myself to be seduced by the pleasant recollection of this happy experience into leavmg the impression that it is typical. OccasionaUy one may tread the straight path into the confidence of a singer to whom the creature comforts of life are dear, and only a few months ago I spent an afternoon with a joUy old dog who, within fifteen minutes after I had greeted him, expressed profound regret that h? had so little to offer me in return for my well-placed frit -lliness. But ease is by no means the rule; and in the c. e of singers who take their art seriously, recoUecting that in their youth they were profoundly respected as dignified entertainers of the community, the wall of reserve is likely to have become high and hard to climb. These are the singers who, as a The Way of the Collector rule, possess the ballads which the collector is most eairer to obtain, and they will display them only to that pe^n who can persuade them that, in a cynical age, he reaUy feels the respectful admiration which animated the circle of hsteners m the good old days. During the years of my sporadic endeavor in the baJad field I have run a good part of what I conceive to be the gamut of the coUector's experience. I have returned home at evemng laden with spoils which were procured as easUy as though Heaven had showered them, manna-like, upon the ground before me, and I have toiled for days on «id with no other reward than the final discovery that I was operatmg upon barren soil. By way of a brief iUustration, I shaU now narrate the adventure of a day which is fairly typical of the hfe of him who f oUows the dim traU of the survivmg English and Scotch ballads. On a smoking hot July afternoon, some years ago. I drove ten or twelve mUes over a narrow, dusty ro^ in ^arch of an old Scotch Canadian named Thomas Mc Farlane. Old Thomas had been described to me as an eccentnc person of outworn habits who could frequently be heard chantmg strange music in a minor ke7 while perf onning his daily chores, and my informer had deduced the entirely false mference that he would prove to be the sort of smg^r that I delighted to honor. Buoyed up, then, with lying hopes and expectations. I drove into the door- yard of Thomas's little house and boldly met the suspi- Clous eye of lus wife who was peeling potatoes at the b Jck door She admitted that her husband might possibly be foimd If he were sought in the swamp down over the hiU. 7h^Z u u ^""^ * ~"P*^ "^ ^°"" ^^°^ to clear out the alder bushes; and thither I proceeded, making the last 28 if The Quest op the Ballad stage of my journey over treacherous hummocks which frequently turned out to be mere tufts of long grass, in- viting the sole of the foot to descend and then blandly subsiding under its weight into the spongy surface of the swamp. I?y this uncertain and frequently disastro smode of advance I finally reached the spot where the bushes were being kid low under the furious onslaughts of Thomas's double-bitted axe. I then secured a substantial hummock, grasped one of the surviving alder bushes for support, and introduced myself while Thomas regarded me with a stem and menacing eye. The mention of my fine old-fashioned Scotch name brought a friendlier gleam into the fierce eyes that were steadily bent upon me, and the animosity finally vanished altogether before the discovery that we were on the same side of politics. The stirring campaign for reciprocity was at its height, and Thomas and I clung to our respec- tive bushes for upwards of an hour while we threshed over the familiar arguments to be made by "the poor man" in favor of letting down the bars of protection. Thus, when the time came for me to attempt a transition to the unre- lated topic of music, Thomas was quite ready to accom- pany me in a spirit of sympathy. He admitted at once that he had been accounted a fair singer in his day, whereat my heart leaped up; then he went on to boast that his voice, during its prime, had been the strongest one in the church choir, whereat my heart subsided. ReHgion may be strong to uplift and to save, but it is not one of the forces that aid in keeping the ballads alive in these troub- lous times. My dark forebodings presently clarified themselves into a shape aU too definite. Thomas followed up his boast by The Way op the Collectob taking a firmer grip of his bush with one hand, while with the other he propped hinwelf resolutely upon the support of his axe. Then he fixed a solemn eye upon me and broke into a wild minor strain which is familiar to every Scotch- man who knows the psahnody of his fathers. The words fitted to this strain are variable, and in the version of Thomas they began thus: Broad is the road that leads to death. And thousands walk together there; But wisdom shows a narrow path. With here and there a traveller. The volume of sound was terrific. I rocked and swayed on the fnul foundation of my chosen hummock as tht lit- tle church at the village must have rocked in the days when Thomas demonstrated his vocal superiority in its choir; and all the whde I was under the necessity of giving mv entertainer gaze for gaze. To have looked anywhere but into the steely orbs that were fixed upon me would have been to sigmfy that the champion voice of the old kirk choir was at last failing to be impressive; therefore I looked and hstened hke a three years' child while Thomas thun- dered along towards the period of his lugubrious hymn. After I had bestowed upon this performance the full meed of my hypocritical appkuse, I proceeded slowly but with a steady msistence to draw Thomas towards the reaUn of profane and popular music. Finally I became definite and specific and asked him pointblank if he had ever heard a song caUed "The Seven Brethren." illustrating my ques- tion by a direct quotation from a ripe old popular baUad that I had copied down from the lips of an ancient singer earlier m the summer: * 25 4 I The Quest of the Ballad Arise, arise, ye seven brethren. And put on your armour so bright Arise and take care of your youngest sister. For your eldest went away last night. "Ah, yes," roared Thomas in a reminiscent tone, "I mind of me mother singin* that song when I was a boy. Let me see how it goesi" Then, taking a firmer hold of his alder bush, he sent his voice hurtling through the quiet air: Arise, arise, ye seven brethereen And put on your armours oright Arise Beyond this point the song, of its own accord, would not transport the singer, and Thomas, though he put forth efforts both herculean and stentorian, could not budge it one word further. FinaUy he acknowledged himself a beaten man. "Me mother," he asserted mournfully, "used o smg that song and a hundred more like it; but she's been in her grave many a year, and I never bothered with the old songs after I went into the choir." I felt even more dejected than old Thomas. He had only made a manful attempt to entertain me for an hour or so m the way which had seemed best to fit my desires, but I had falsely possessed myself, in anticipation, of a priceless store of ballads which now, in a moment, ha^ slipped from my grasp forever. And, since Thomas had proved to be a broken reed and a stricken alder bush, it remamed for me only to put the final question which I keep m stock for the conclusion of a fruitless interview: Do you know of anybody around these parts that might be able to smg any of the old songs ?" 26 t The Way of thb CoujEcrot "Why. yes," said Thomas, cudgelling hU brain in a pathetic eaprness to make amends for hi. recent failure. *u^u °i?^^^, Thompson in yon Uttle house up over the hill. They tell me that she used to have a lot o' them old sor^ that she would sing for the boys when they wai dancm and fiddhn' at her house. Ye might try her-if she U let ye git past her dooryard." It "the trade of the ballad-coUector to walk up to roar- ing hons chained in caves and to attack fortified cities whose waUs perchance wiU tumble at the blast of a trum- ^M rirJ ^^ '*°* ***"**** •* ^ P^P^ o' rtorm- ing the httle house, up over the hill, which immured the grun and mysterious figure of old Ann Thompson. As I hitehed my horse to the post safely placed outside the de- batable ground of the dooryard. I cautiously noted, upon a bench m front of the house, an ancient figure cUd in « ancient grngham gown ending weU above a pair of frankly disphiyed bi^ feet which were disposed for coohiess upZ LnSiJr ^}' ^'^^''^'^^''^g^'^r.^d cynical e%^ udo^h"^*". T'^^ approached, but remained fixed upon the distant and mscrutable sea. Too long and tedious were it to tell of the protracted conversation m which I introduced, one after another a nehand vaned hst of topics upon which I was freely allowed to expend the treasure of my oratory while Ann made occasional brief and sarcastic responses. The chances are that I should presently have mihitched my horse with never a ballad upon the writing-pad in my in- side pocket had not a stout aUy come to my assistance in ^m^T*t V^"^^ T!'^'' ''^ approached around the comer of the house rubbing her hands free of the flour iT II /li Thi Qum OF THi Ballad ■elf ready to serve me to the heiirht of h— .kr!: f • •irted only upon a complrtTimTdH^ni *^ "^ '"" occupation and line^ „d ^J^f ?^""* °' '"y •ni always di D«*d?! i!^ ^ ***P**''' «»* '^Wch I was completed I «Uted modestTttat 31.T "*^'"" was to heap old songs and to wpv S^l^ ^* P"*^"* "Good l«n/ii" *;. r^ ~Py *"*™ down on paper. man? It won't i,.,^ ^ . ^^^ ^'^^^ *ong8 for the Ann I, J w r ^°" ""^^ '* ^™»'* ^urt him * bright moon, the rtm oSl**Jf "T* "^ *^ -= h. no w .i. .^Z."tTX^ tZ 28 Tarn Wax aw ihi CcnxiCKni rdent, for d« now begm to diswmble in crrfty fwhioo. Ah. weU," A. -id, "I did u« to .ing once, whanS younpr m' .p^„ tluu. I .» now, tot I couM no m^ ««(f for y. now tl»n I could fly. .. . Emm.,.. ^ ^ on tummg to her daughter, "go «,• fetch th.t book" ^f • r. "" ij?"*- He c« write «o.. o-tL^ ^^„they« . bkm. «8ht better th«. «y I couU a^,^^^^*^' i^ °* """"'""y to find the hook, quite Mbsfied, m her umocence, that old Ann h«l hit upoo tt« dence for ending ril our difllenlti... A. for ZT M^ my time u doe. the cpt«n of . rtonn-beitcn b^A ^^h d^lter. Uk h.«n for which he «ul.. The WW. were here, ud I umrti ,,, If inw«dly that I wouMbe tag up by theWU in th.u.^.ket-pl«,Lt I woT^ «»>>e of them down before I crowed Am. Thomp^-I dooryardapin. men the book wm in due «««rp Wd m my hand. I di.«„bW in my tun> « cr^af X^ had ^ne.««mmng Witt gnat care tte word. „d ^ of Old BlMk Joe," "SwMiee Rirer," u,d mmy otter "There are plenty of songs better than these " I «^ marked after a space, "and they've nev«^^ttL k books either. Take a song like this one, no^aTMin^ up my voice. I huskily carolled the fir^ two s^s o^f brave old "Come aU ye» ballad of Waterb^: Come all you brisk and lively lads, Come listen unto me. While I relate how I have fought Through the wars of Germanv. « II The Quest op the Ballad ' Th ' ^TiJ ^^""^ ^P*^ »"d Portugal Through France and Flanders too. But It's httle I thought I'd be reserv;^ *or the plains of Waterloo. "Hoi" exclaimed Ann sardonieallv «»« ^. i one, do ye? Well th*.«.'c , r*'^*^^' «> 7'- know that never helivJ ?! *^ **'°"* Waterloo that I'U bet ye never neard from anyone but m*.i" a»j • " p"- /« As I walked out on a fine smmner's evening- a chMice either to «i«Jrf „?t„ 7^ T*""* »^^ "» '' aL^^"^.' '^''' °^ • ««d Umentati™ About her absent lover on the pUin, of W.^«, "T^U !!"' ""^ !f " "' •■* ^'^ "« « token. A gold dianiond nng that wm broken in iwo- To I'" T'""' "'' ™«' '^'« '"dy SaUy"' C«w.^""'^^"'^ """"■«■«'« it ^ S T^''/,:!* V"" ■"""• y« Pri^e of "11 nation. For I^h.« been in battle, where e«mon, loudly 80 The Way of the Collectob And by your description I might have known the same." "O, William Smith's his name, he's a hero of fame." Many s the battle him and I have been in. Through Portugal and Russia we often marehed together. He was my loyal comrade through France and through Spain. "As by the French we were aU surrounded. Like bold British heroes we did them subdue. We fought three days together until we did subdue them. Like bold Napoleon Boney on the plains of Waterloo. "By French soldiers your true love was slain • . , It's there I saw him lie, there I'saw hii^ bleed and die With his low faltering voice he bid me adieu." Here a whole stanza was gone, as Ann freely admitted, piecmg up the imperfection with an exphmatory com- ment: She would faU down in a faintin' fit, not knowin' S^k" X^IT ^l ^^^'' '^' ™ taUdn' to in the dark. Then the tnumphant conclusion was presented by the song itself: •*« uj Wl»en he found her so loyal he pulled out the token. The gold diamond ring that was broken in two, 5>aying, 'You have my heart and ring, dear lovely Sally, ' To remember your dear WiUy, but he's far from Waterloo." SI i i jii i! f * *K ! I 1^ i il i-i' The Quest of the Ballad Mangled and battered and torn though it was, this bal- lad had finnly implanted itself in the affections of old Ann, and its very wounds rendered it doubly dear, for they remained as a proof of what Ann repeatedly boasted, that no one else could sing the song differently because no one else knew it. As for me, I welcomed it as gladly as dear lovely SaUy" welcomed her lover who so crueUy tested her faith in the treacherous gloom of a summ» evenmg. If a baUad-singer can be persuaded to give you one song he wiU then proceed to hand over to you every song that he possesses, regrettmg only that he has not more to give; also, it must be remembered that old Ann and I had exchanged baUads in the process of singing to each other, and this is a ceremony as formal, binding, and sacred as the halvmg of a "gold diamond ring." A few minutes after the smging had ended we all proceeded, an amicable tno, towards the single entrance to the cottege, while Ann made one last hypocritical attempt to put me in my place. 1 s pose, she remarked to her daughter. "I'd better put on me boots an' me silk stockin's before I go to set up in the parlor with him." ^ I have narrated, in rather aimless fashion, this d( ible adventure of my baUad-hunting days, not because the ad- venture is of any special interest in itself, but because it truly illustrates the discouragement. faUure. and chance success that form the mingled lot of the ballad-collector in these latter days. Ballad-gathering is no longer an "s tempt of ease," but the coUector who knows that it wi soon be quite impossible will not refuse to accept his share of discouragement if now and then he is enabled to record a traditional song that after-ages wiU not willingly let die. M CHAPTER THREE My Fimt Ballad-Hunt In the foUowing two or three chapters I shaU give a rambling account of my first adventures in pursuit of the baUad, and I may quite properly preface the account with a brief sketch of my preparation for the work. This sketch may be narrowed down to the simple statement that I have always been addicted to what is frequently de- Mnbed as "low company." Since I was reared in a Nova Scotia seaport town, where the grades of society go down as low as heart could desire, I had for years ample oppor- tumty of satisfying this base-bom predUection to the fuU- and when I developed, a f ev years ago, the nobler ambi- tion to form a coUection of the Nova Scotia ballads I had the best stock-in-trade obtainable for the purpose, a f anul- lanty with the sort of people who now possess a monopoly of this very humble species of entertainment. Still, I would not have anybody think that my youthful exper- lence made the task of collecting baUads a simple one. No possible kind of preparation for the work could effect that result, and if it were necessary for me to choose a text for my remarks my text would be. The way of ballad-coUeo- tors IS hard. My first introduction to ballad-singing as a matter of oral tradition was through an old man of French descent known as Little Ned, though, as he himself never forgot, he had for special use on dignified occasions the soundinc name of Edward LangiUe. Little Ned was a cobbler in ■i t, i! ft The Qxtest of the Ballad the viUage of River John, and in his diminutive hut, immi- noit upon the river bank, he plied his trade and enter- tained at aU hours those of his acquaintances whom he saw fit to advance to terms of intimacy. He lived as com- pletely in the past as if the clock had ceased to move, many years before, when he had reached the prime of life; and in consideration of his garrulity and his marveUous mem- ory—a natural enough accompaniment of complete and hereditary illiteracy— he was a most delectable compan- ion for one who could appreciate a vivid reproduction of "the old days." Little Ned was thus a most happy exception to the rule which I presented so mournfully in my first chapter. He had no sort of objection to enlivening the present with the entertainments of the past, for the simple reason that the past was stiU the present to him. Of the new and fashion- able tendency to sing tearful ditties about gay ball-rooms and deserted homes he never knew, or, knowing, was serenely oblivious. Moreover, like many an one whose usual role it is to play the part of bland entertainer, Little Ned was at all times guarded against 'contradiction or ndicule by the suggestion of a strong potential irascibility; and in his own castle, which he rarely forsook, his point of view was constantly maintained. Among his various spoils of the past Ned had a stock of baUads which, in age and variety, was probably without parallel in the whole countryside. When in a tuneful frame of mind— a condition easily produced in his case by the gentle influence of a little rational stimulant— he would smg baUads by the hour with never a regret for the half- finished piece of cobbling on the bench beside him. Among the older ballads in his collection his favorites were, "Lord 84 It My FiKST Ballad-Hunt Thomas and Fair Ellinor," "Little Matha Vxrove." and. above aU, "Bolender Martin." But the songs in his reper- tory were not aU drawn from the lists of older English and Scottish popular ballads. He was equally interested in the misfortunes of the Prince Edward Islander who in- troduced the stoiy of his life by informing his hearers: "O ray name is Peter Ambelay, as you shaU understand. My home is in Prince Edward Island, down by the ocean strand." Frequently he discharged the duty of instructing his youth- f ul visitors through the medium of a moral ballad depict- ing an unhappy person who began life by "steering his couwe for pleasure" and who came to grief in the 4uel. Or If the wicasion was more meny. he would sometimes troll out a ditty beginning, O there were three Boston ladies. And they were dressed in green, which by contrast with most of his songs, had the airy ef- feet of a bit of ver» de »ociHi. I must be pardoned for dwelling at some length on the memory of this antique purveyor of the old baUad stock Even now. after the lapse of several years. I cannot reflect upon the nch possibilities of Little Ned without much in- vt^ IT ,'^^*'' *'™« ^^°^^ ^°' ~"««e I saw very httle of him for some years, but when I became interested m the baUads as literary documents, and had my eves opened to the importance of gathering traditional versions now extant, my mind naturaUy reverted to the ample 85 f: 1 it The Quest of the Ballad store-house of old Ned, which I could open for the asking. I determined to spend a part of my next s^mimer vacation in ransacking the store-house tor tfce benefit of mankind, but no sooner had I formed this Iionorab'e resolution than I received a letter from home stating that my old friend had suddenly died. Ballad-singing has for many years, and in the richest fields, been on the pomt of lapsing from a moribund state into positive extinction. The north shore of Nova Scotia, as I have come to believe, is a very rich field as fields go nowadays, but it is irredeemably impoverished by the loss of such a singer as old Ned Langille. Practically all of tile ballads in my collection I have procured from men and women in the neighborhood of seventy or eighty years of age. With that generation the singing of ballads as a recognized form of entertainment seems to have ceased, and any persons of a younger generation who have ac- quired ballads traditionally have done so because of some unusual condition of character or circumstance, and not because it was a conventional or desirable thing to do. Therefore, the sort of persons that one may speak of now as forming the chief class of ballad-singers are men and women who have survived to the age of eighty or there- abouts, who were ballad-singers in their young days when ballad-singing was more fashionable, and who have in some way managed to retain portions of the old ballad stock through the years that have elapsed since it passed out of fashion. In the light of these facts I cbim the right to bestow the passing tribute of a sigh upon the memory of Ned Langille the cobbler. But ballad-singing, though it had been dealt a heavy stroke by the death of Little Ned, had not yet utterly 86 tl My Fuwt Ballad-Hunt perished from the earth, and in the summer of 1909 I started out 11, rather aimless fashion to wander throurf, the countiy m search of people who were old. who we« musicaUy mclmed. and whose social status did not elevate iT -5^7 **'^ P^*"^ °^ ^«" "nusements. First of alL Little Ned's, m the wavering hope that she might b^ a chance possessor of some of the material which had. aU too ate, caused her brother to assmne such important dimen- sions in my sight. She Uved in the hamlet of MarshWUe sitttr^^ ? ^"'^"' "■ ""^ "^"«* *° *^^ combination «ttmg.room. dming-room. and kitchen where she and her husband were sheltering themselves fn,m the sun. aTd par' tjfang mstead of the mor* personal and private sS ^heat en^tted by the x^aring wood-fi^ i„^heir kS ^IL 1 ?r^ ™ ^"^"'' "^^e *° *« domesticity of the scene with a comforting pipe of Pictou twist Z most concentrated narcotic in exigence; so. i^ ^t ^t to mfrmge on the hannony of the scene. I put my o^ ine weather and the briefness of human existence A ««« siderat ion of the various ills that tonnenurmortat fl^Si o^ w ' ^^ **^" ^ succeeded in introducing my own topic, m spite of old James's absorbed interest^ Z er'f sreZr*^^ to sniff at my assertion of her broth- er 8 supenonty m the realm of sonir "Ah " .1,-. -• u j "Ned must a' told ye that. He'sd3\«^ she sighed, ^c ui«. tte s dead and gone now, pore 87 M n if The Quest of the Ballad Ned, but there's no denyin' that he used to be a terrible liar." I stoutly maintained that. Jar or no liar, Ned had entertained me time and time again with songs in great variety and profusion. "O yes," she admitted, "Ned knowed a few songs, but he could never sing like his father. He was a singer for ye, now, was me father. When I was a girl I can mind of him settin* on his bench anjl tap tap- pin* on the shoes, ; singin' songs that would bring the very tears to your eyes. He could sing steady all day an' never sing the same song twict." A modest request for a reproduction of some of these tender ballads drew from Susan only a repeated insistence on their great variety and their potency in forcing tears to the eyes. "I never bed any music in me head," she explained, "it all run to me heels." I become conscious that I am doing an injustice to the personality of this kindly old lady. She had become con- vinced that I was in a state of desperate physical ill-being, and she was much more concerned about some remedies for my lean and depleted appearance than about the pe- dantries of ballad-lore. But the short of the matter is that she could not sing or repeat a single line of the multifar- ious ballads that her father had sung. The best she could do was to give the substance of two that had especially ap- pealed to her "because they was so sad"— "Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor" and "James Harris, or the Demon Lover." Apart from these she had only a general im- pression that a srreat many of her father's songs had been about "fightin' and love, an' lords an' ladies." But, with a real desire to do everything that could be done for my entertainment, she finally suggested that her own man used to know a couple of songs; whereat old 98 My FlMT BALLiU>-HuNT James, seeing the attention directed hia wav -«.* • j- mtted th.t he might be .ble to produce one «yng itU^ M^ed to ".tudy fer . whUe." After . Aort MriL^ studymg' „d mother ineffective bomb«ding JTSTfil he cIo«d h„ eye,. le«.ed b«k in hi. eh«r,td prSS «quenlly, it once enjoyed s wide popuUritv in the ^.T mun,ty. „d p«ily bec«« it h« to my^«T W.T tnn„c mterert « being the firrt bdtad that I J to ^p^; O come .U ye men of learning, «,d ,«nbhng boy, bew«e ThiiJ^^lofty hill, „d mom„d„, that a« at your com- And^Wr^'of «,e tediou, joumey going t. v„ d;,^.. ° *t rdt:i"rr '^'-''*-- »"™- «- One mght they were trapanded by the keeper of the struid. O Bro™ he h«i a sweetheart. Je«, Summer waa her And^ was «„t to Dublin town for the playmg of her ■J; J 89 Ths Qusn or the Ballad Our captftin fell in love with her and married her out of hand. And the best of treatment she gave us going to Van Die- man's Land. O the place we had to land upon was on some foreign shore. The people gathered around us, about five himdred score. They yoked us up like horses and sold us out of hand. They chained us to a chain, boys, to plough Van Dieman's Land. O the place we had to sleep upon was built of sods and clay. And rotten straw for to lay upon, and dare not a word to say. The people gathered all round us, saying, "Slumber if you can, And think of the Turks and tigers that's in Van Dieman's Lsnd." one night as I lay upon my bed I dreamed a pleasant dream. 1 dreamed that I was in old Ireland down by a spiu-lhi^ stream, With a handsome girl upon my side, and she at my com- mand — When I woke quite broken-hearted all in Van Dieman's Land. A modest enough beginning to my labors, in good sooth. Of the many ballads and songs that I have collected from time to time this is one of the humblest and the least. And yet it did not fail to win its tribute of emotion from poor old Susan, who in the judging of a ballad must be allowed 40 it Mt Fiut Ballad-Huxt to have had lome qualificationt which are denied to thoie of greater erudition. As the singing proceeded she evinced the liveliest sympathy for the luckless "Brown, Martin and PaulJones," and kept ejaculating sorrowfully: "Oh, the pore fellahs I" "To think they had nawthing but rotten straw to lay on I" and so forth. And her husband, far from being annoyed by this running fire of most audible comment, sang with greater vigor and was visibly heart- ened by the realization that he was arousing emotioD by his performance. This is one of the few occasicms on which I have wit- nessed the satisfactory— I might almost say the ideal- rendition of a ballad, and my memory of the composite performance of old James and his wife is to me rather more valuable than is the somewhat debased and senti- mentalized ballad which I carried away. It is only when a ballad is rendered by a singer of the old school in the presence of one or more listeners who have by chance sur- vived with him that the full significance of ballad-singing can be realized. The total effect is infinitely greater than that suggested by the unanimated ballad which is trans- mitted to the printed page, or even by the words with the music. It is both of these plus the emotion of singer and listeners, an emotion manifested by the ktter, sometimes m ejaculatory comments, and sometimes in an unconscious or excited joining of forces with the singer in the rendition of a line or a refrain. Jr. this harmony between the singer and his audience one may see, if one is as fortunate as I have been, a clear suggestion of that older and more com- plete h-Tnony which the dust of many centuries has so obscure J for us, and which we vaguely define as "the spirit of the throng." «i CHAPTER FOUR 1^ I The Discotzby or Bob A week or two after my rather uneventful afternoon in the tomd I'llme of Susan's kitchen I heard by a sort of ac- adent of ar ild tuui who seemed speciallv designed by a sympatheti' I'rtM idence to serve my peculiar ends. One of the fneruis to ^vhom I told the story of my quest wfc* a doctor in iataiiMtgonche, a village about tw Ive miles from River JohiK aixl among his patients was an octogenarian named Bc.b Lang,Ue, who lived a couple c f mile^ outside of the village with liis two sisters, and they, also, were well stncken m years. Bob was unable to repay the doctor's services with coin of the reahn, but on one or two occasions he had shown his gratitude to his benefactor by singing some old songs which he evidently regarded with a lover's jealousy and with a father's pride. So ran the nnort of the doctor, who agreed to convoy and to introduce me in proper form, since, as he very sagely observed, I should be m danger of expending nuch eloquence to little pur pose if I should go unsp«msored Accordingly, thus stoutly attended, I set out one morning for the humble abode of the ancient trio. We found our potential hallad-singer in the In door- yard behind the house, making feeble efforts t. split block of wood. He greeted my friend with the pnimm est respect, acknowledged my introduction to hin ^nd in. mediately disappeared within t e house. We foUowed hrni as far as the kitchen to pay our respects to the two The DncovxKY of Bob old aisteri, who were «ijoying the uiueasonable comforts of a blMing wood fire. After I h«l ^ven a fairly com- plete jiccount (, my parentage, occupation, and place of libode in answer to tlie insistent demands of the sisters. Bob renppeared, having in the meantime exchanged his tattew i -ow 3 breakfast" for th. more .eremonial head- gear 1 an antique felt hat. This he continued to i^ear, except for the brief intermission of dinner-time, during the rest )f Hie day, in uunor of iiis -isit from two profes- si«mal gtntleMen. I his artww on ih« part of old Bob immediately sug- gestt d a t oHi ison h tween him and mv departed friend LittK Neri The er had always recv red his company with he d. V < king . his throne xtending greet- ings to ai e 4r jhf vom his fur cap summer and wmtei indoo^^ ^, ,ut, w. never a misgiving as to the «n«« his tire. But th. is subjecting poor old Bob to a «v^re aiui rather unfair test. In an age of victorious ^ erpowering conventionality it is to(. much to expect ^' on. should encounter another uncor. ious and serene indi idualist like Little Ned. Bat while these reflections were fl. ' '^ It of my mind I was laboring « rjgratiaf myself with the ancient trio, »i u me , a careful scrutiny. At len^. . „«u i«uuiy .., owed that he would be the willing servant of any friend of the doctor s. the latter went on his way. and Bob and I .etired to an mner room, an apartment ahnost bare of ornament or furniture, but happily separated by a parti- turn from the torrid cLine of the kitchen. Here we began to review the situation. It's seldom I sing me songs to anybody nowadays," 4S th the u::.der- ?at vigor to ere subject- Bob loudly I f / The Quest of the Ballad said old Bob. "The time was when a man was thought somethin' of if he could set up f er a whole evenin' and sing the old English songs, but now a man'» no good onless he kin sing these new-fangled Yankee songs with no sense nor no story to them." It soon appeared that, as this prologue suggested, Bob was a Britisher of intense and blazing patriotism. "Onct I sung a song fer a Yankee sailor about the Chesapeake and the Shannon," he annoimced. "It was a good song too, an' it told about the British beatin' the Yankees like they deserved." "He was a younger man than I was," he add- ed gleefully, "an' he'd a' licked me fer it if they hadn't been too many Britishers around fer him." It may seem strange that this flaming enthusiasm for the British flag should exist in a man who, as his name in- dicates, was of French origin, but the fact is that the same uncompromising loyalty towards an adopted rather than a parent land is manifested by all the people of Bob's age, race, and condition of life in that particular part of Can- ada. Much of our conversation that morning was about the Battle of Waterloo, and Bob became as excited over the topic as if he had just received news of the downfall of Napoleon. Bob's elation was of a general and British character, but Little Ned, who was never tired of dis- coursing on the same great theme, had always shown par- ticular zeal over the prowess of "de Scotch Greys." With- out their able assistance, he had argued, Wellington could never have won the victory. In a later chapter I shall give reasons for the apparent recreancy on the part of the French people who settled in Nova Scotia. The fact, which is enough to state now, is that they immediately went to work to take over the tra- M Old Bob had bern In hi* day a mighty singer "'^f*'*' ^^*^ P'"*''* °' ^*h *he national iTt^ r^ ^'"^ sea-baUads were held in the great- est esteem by Bob. and the particular one that found su- f .i ■r .-II i The Quest of the Ballad preme favor in his eyes was "The Little Fighting Chance." ^ the fourteenth of July once so clear was the skv We saw a sassy frigate come bearing down so nigh, Come beanng down upon us as we saUed out of France cCce '^'^ "^"^ ""*"*** "^^ '^^* ^'"^^ Fighting Chorus. So cheer up, my lively boys. Let it never be said That the sons of old Britannia would ever be afraid. If I had been a listener of the good old-fashioned sort I could not have sat gazing silently and impassively at the smger who was making this passionate appeal to my oyalty and manhness. This lack of the pro^r respond m me put upon old Bob the constraint of piling uV my imperfections m hmiself. and. as he delivered the last word of the brave chorus, he opened his eyes, glared upon me with an access of patriotic fervor, and bellowed. "Thev never was afraid yit. me boyi" Then, having supplied the comment which he should have had merely to Stimulate, he closed his eyes and proceeded with redoubled vigor: We gave to them a gun and the battle had begun The cannon they did roar and the bullets they did flv It was broadside for broadside. We showed them ^dlant spore* And to see the lofty yards and the topmasts roUiPg over- 50 The DncovERY of Bob We fought them four hours, the battle w« «, hot Till four of our foremost men Uy dead u^th^ «nn* Sixteen were wounded, made tw«ty ^ J^ "^ And down with the French lilv bov« th. k u and all. ^' ^*' *"* Frenchmen one yZ7TI ''~? ^y'' *'"^ *^*^ Pri«^ « our own What shall we do for iurv-niiistsf /«, . And ..riy ae next ».™i„g .„ I ^Ift king „„ "ho We he.«l it deS^ST^ ^•'"- ^"^ I- it so lifflitlv for T „.™ ?r ^*'' "■*■«• """not regird to one u,di«rimin.t. d«,ghtep.teA *^ ^* ^""^ ilie song wlridi followed this i.i.ri-» ■"fun. It, inte«,t lie, to S^ fort 1?!?^ '"''"*"* neat combimition of .i- . ^' " *ow, a veiy topic whicHlrbl^.!™ •"'^"y irre«»cil.bfe Ms just preW^th^r "P separately in the two bal- victory atL • ' '"'"""'*' "^ "^ the Bnglid, SI I ■ I The Quxst of the Ballad A» we were a sailing down by the Spanish shore Our dnuis they did beat and the guns loudly roar. We spied a lofty admiral ship come plou^^g down the main. Which caused us to hist our tops'ls again. Come, boys, let us be hearty, come, boys, let us be true, And after our enemy we quickly shall pursue. Soon as we overtake them upon the ocean wide With foresail set we'll give them a broadside. They gave to us another as good as we sent. For to sink each other was our whole intent. At the very second broadside our captam he was slain. Up steps a damsel his place for to maintain. "O quarters, O quarters, my brave British boys." "No quarters, no quarters," the damsel she replies. "You have the best of quarters I can to you afFord. You must fight, strike, or sink, my boys, or jump over- board." Now since we gained the victory we'll drink a glass of wine. Drink to your own true love and I'll drink to mine. Here's a health imto the damsel, the damsel of fame, So boldly she fought on the Union by name. As Bob sang I made efforts to copy, or, when the mo- tion was too swift for me, I leaned back, closed my eyes in imitation of my entertainer, and resigned myself to the pleasant task of learning some of the times. The two old sisters hovered about, as Othello says of Desdemona, 5* Th» Dmcovht of Bob ^titill tiie hoiMe affair, would caU them thence Wbc* ever .. they could with harte di.pir^' They d come agam and with a greedy ear Devour up Bob'i diacourse. If the song happened to have a refrain they would inJn in. and frequently they would ««>mp^y^ ^^^1^ Ime or a stanza which had lod«ed itsenffK^ *? ■ And .t dl time, they comS^ty ^"^'^ -nt. which their brother was celebX in^tS had been C^J^^J'T ^"J ^'^ •"^ *" «»* Bob laid aside hTJlit a^rd^r„t't:^f ^^^{^ i*. him the spirit of poetry wT^r^^ u n^*" ^^^' *»"* ^ gross des4 for b^^«^ "1* ^^^^^^ supplanted by nounced. as he laidlJffoM^ k T * "**° °"**'" ^« "- made up a piJL of ^t ' .^ ^'^^ T" ^' P^*<^' "that rU give it to^: ^ ^ ^*" * "*^"» °° '^^^ dinner, and Some hev meat and cannot eat, ^d some would eat that hev no meat. But we hev meat and we kin eat. And so God bless the giver. M lAM li -I -=fi Thl Quxn* OF TH» Ballad ceives during the process of oral transmission, I addressed myself to the business in huid. While we were partaking of the food thus consecrated. Bob and his sisters were moved to discourse upon that period of their lives wh:. ! '.ad been called up by the per- formance of the morning. Though they were now living hard by the sea-coast, they had spent their earlier years in New Annan, a Scotch settlement about twenty miles in- land. Bob had been a cobbler by trade. He had worked his bit of land in season, and, when occasion called, had gne from house to house building and repairing shoes. His love of ballads was such an early growth that he could not remember the time when he had not immediately ap- propriated and tucked away in his capacious memory every new one that came in his path; and since in his capacity of Itinerant cobbler he had visited from time to time most of the homes in a singing community, he had had ample opportumty of acquiring new songs in exchange for old ones. "Ah, sir," cried old Kitty, moved by these reminis- cences to a burst of enthusiasm for the splendor of the past, "it was nawthin' but singin* an* dancin' in them days. Many's the time we would take hold of hands an' go through the fields to a dance singin' the old soniw to- gether." * After the family had moved down to Tatamagouche which was about thirty years before I made their acquain- tance, Bob had learned most of his sea-songs, and these I suspect, had had the effect of crowding out some of the older ballads which he had learned in New Aiman. They had, of course, made their special appeal to his fervid patriotism, which would give them an advantage over most of the "English and Scottish popular baUads" of the 54 The Ducovkxy of Bob found out b, iMuiJLZu'^^ tr.' Z ""'■' r .' oW lr«i,tion.l Scotch b,ll«b to thL » J ^u'"^ **" «idif«« of newer nutcriltSfeNrii ^*'' ""^ ''* Tbe diffc«„ce. t^ ^^c^ " '"X," <" »'!»' thing., ception, of the old wtJZ!Z '''*~' ^'^'* «». thoK of Bob "'°" "»•"*«" «i"g !»* her sing «,,! !,f "" ~'' ' "P-" I cheerfully "■egan with . pJanffe. ,. ^"^ ^P°«^ '«"<'l' «nd Your love it c„ Z 1 !f * """^ ""' con^nt.then.to':^'::^^.':^;''^.-, as f . Ths Quest of the Ballad With blushes as charming as roses in June She answered "Dear William, to wed I'm too young; For young men are fickle, I see very plain. If a maiden is kind her they quickly disdain." "My charming sweet Mary, how can you say so? Thy beauty is the heaven to which I would go. And if there I find channel if I chance for to steer I there will cast anchor and stay with my dear." But yet 'twas in vain she strove to deny. For he by his cunning soon made her comply. And by base deceptions he did her betray. In sin's hellish paths he led her astray. Now when this young damsel with child she did prove She soon sent her tidings to her faithless love. Who swore by the heavens that he would prove true. And said, "I will marry r>o damsel but you." Things passed on a wbi^. \.t length we do hear His ship was a-sailing, for sea he must steer, Which pained this poor damsel and woimded her heart. To think with her true }ove she must part. Cried she. "Dearest " '^ill, ere you go to sea Remember the vuws yuu have made imto me. If at home you don't tarry I never can rest. O how can you leave me with sorrows oppressed?" With tender expressions he to her did say, "I'll marry my Mary ere I go to sea. And if that to-morrow my love can ride down. The ring I can buy our fond union to crown." The Discotebt of Bob With tender embraces they parted that night And promised to meet the next morning aTlight Wdliam said. "Maiy, you must go with me Jiefore we are married our friends for to see." Atl^^^'*^''''^?^'''' "*^ ^•"^» «> deep. At length this poor damsel began for to ween Cjymg. "Willie, I fear you wSTead me Zt Un purpose my innocent life to betray." ¥ort^lT'l?^'"^'^«^^- All earth can't you sa^e ^r the whole of last night I was digging your ^y?^' When poor Mary did hear him say sT ^ The tears from her eyes like a fountain did flow. I^/J.^°'^r,^"'*' 0«P«re my poor life. Let me hve f ull of shame if I can'?lte your wife O teke not my life lest my soul you betray And you to perdition be hurried aw^/^^' "There is no time disputing to stand." But mstantly taking a knife in his hand On board .yph,„,^^^^Jrt.^ And «t «a for P,y„o„a. ^ p^^^'^ LT^I^ n™«" Stwiirt of coa«ge w bold ^ mghl happened Ute for to aoTtt^ Zu Where . be.„tifu] d«„«l to hirn^".^'* And , hem her .n™ held „i„fJ'lS'^ 47 t r- \J « The Quest of the Ballad Being merry with liquor he went to embrace, Transported with joy at beholding her face; When to his amazement she vanished away, Which he told to the captain without more delay. The captain soon summoned his jovial ship's crew. And said, "My brave fellows, I'm afraid some of you Have murdered some damsel ere you came away, Whose injured ghost now haunts on the sea. "Whoever you be, if the truth you deny. When found out you'll be hanged on the gallows so high. But he who confesses his life we'll not take. But leave him upon the first island we make." Then William immediately fell to his knees. The blood in his veins quick with horror did freeze. He cried, "Cruel murderer, what have I done? God help me, I fear my poor soul is undone. "Poor injured ghost, your full pardon I crave. For soon I must follow you down to the grave." No one else but this poor wretch beheld the sad sight, And raving distracted he died that same night. Now when her sad parents these tidings did hear. Soon searched for the body of their daughter so dear. In the town of Southampton in a valley so deep. Her body was found, which caused many to weep. In Gaspard's green churchyard her ashes now lie. And we hope that her soul is with God in the sky. So let this sad tale be a warning to all Wlio dare an innocent young maid to enthrall. M The Ducoveby of Bob heroin.-. loH^i^J^^l:^ "" " *^ ter-stroke of villainy: *'"'*'"«<» ^ execute his mas- He led her through groves and va»- -ys so deen ^^mg, Wilhe. I fear you will lead me astrav On purpose my imioeent life to betra"" ^' Jhen followed the eool and murderous «sponse of WU- nignt 1 was diggmg your grave." jeoIllLirLrdto^X^^^^^ fer a minute or twol" Then w^H. ™ ^ ***" ^^^^^^ pathos of the situation "Ah thT n * '""^'^T* '"''' "^ **»« the tears out o' meTv^ti; 7T P"*' ^ ^«»'t ^^^P sister, swelling whh 2^;^ Ji'r^^^^j^fhe'r' But K. evoking. hadLw goTsTver^^^^^^^^ *^' *PP**"^ ^ -«« '>ad stimulated Bohtj^ltThu^^^^^ ^'^ ^°^' "^"^^ Mag^rBirrraJetr^^^^ r 'i '-v-- *^^ ^^^ ^^ it for me on a suCuenTJ^ '^ ^'° ^'*"^ ^^^ ««»« J'-d hit upon the Sme If "" *^''' "^^ ^'*' «»d I o«ler to double IhrsS of tr"'^,^"*^ '^^ «»^"* « speed of the work. If j had to relv 59 -^ '«:!• The QrnuT or the Ballad upon the results of this my first visit, the "Gaspard Tng. edy" should go unrecorded so far as I am concerned. It impressed me then as being one of the most interesting songs I had heard that day, and I at once made the effort to copy it; but I might as well have tried to capture a wireless message. Old Maggie could make an easy and unhesitating passage through the ballad on the wings of song, but, divested of these wings, she became incapable of the slightest progress; nor could she, though with the best intentions, go slowly enough with her singing for me to get the words down. But at this unhappy juncture Bob, who had been earn- estly "studying" with his head in his hands, suddenly leaned back with his eyes tightly dosed, and resolved him- self into a tornado of song: Arise, arise, ye seven brethren. And put on your armours bri|^t Arise and take care of your younger sister. For your eldest went away hist night. Then was the oil of gladness straightway poured upon my troubled head, for this was an "English and Scottish popiUar ballad" at last. Old Kitty and I settled our backs against the wall and drew on our pipes with a contentment which no elusive ship-carpenter could mar, while Bob, rag- ing like one inspired, whirled onward through the rever- berating stan2as. 'Twas on the road, 'twas away they rode, Twas all by the light of the moon. Until he looked over his left shoulder And saw her seven brethren drawing nigh. eo The Dibcoteby of Bob "Lie down, lie down, Lady Margret," he said. And by my two steeds stand, Unta I fight thy seven brethren. And thy father, who's nigh at hand." She stood and saw her seven brethren faU Without shedding a tear, Until she saw her father fall Whom she lovM so dear, For thy stroke it is wonderful sore. For It 8 many's the true love I might have had. But a father I'll never have more." She took her white pocket-handkerehief. That was made of the hollands fine. And wiped her father's bloody bloody wound That run redder than the wine. "Ch^ae ye. choose ye. Lady Margret." he said. Will you here abide?" ^ "Ono, I must go wheresoever you go, For you've left me here no guide:" He mounted her on his milky white steed. And he on his dappled gray. ^ The bugle horn hung by his side. And slowly they rode away. 'TWM on the road, 'twas away they rode. Until they came to the Erint waters, ^hat was raging like the main. 61 The Quest of the Ballad He lighted down to take a drink Of the spring that run so clear, And down the stream run his good heart's blood. aore she begun to fear. "Lie down, lie down. Lord William," she said, "For you are a slain man." "O no, it is your scarlet red cloak That's reflecting on the main." 'Twas on the road, 'twas away they rode, 'Twas all by the light of the mo^n. Until they came to his mother's chamber door. And there they lighted down. "Arise, arise, dear mother," he says, "Arise and let us in. For by all the powers that is above This night my love I've won." "O mother, mother, make us a bed. And sheathe it with the hoUands fine. And lay Lady Margret by my side And sound sound sleep we'll take." Lord William he died at the middle of the night. Lady Margret ere it was day, And ever\' true lovers that goes together I wish them more luck than they. When Bob opened his eyes upon the last line of the ballad I was waiting with raised pencil to conduct l-im through « second and more prosaic re<:ital; and when 1 left th** abode of song late that aftemoc*,. with my riirfit arm hanging limp from the shoulder, my comfort was ^at 1 had, at feast, discovered one gleaming niigget in the mine of base metals. 62 I' CHAPTER FIVE Rimes op an Ancient Makineb P«c«,i„g chapter is J^^^'TZ S:":!"^' "I «n extremely iimoeenl .nri .n,.. ™ ""^ "roggles of —tter of faet V^fj^ «"«tam»l. coUeetor. As , *e English »d^S"Cprr",,rr tr'""'" tHjn h«l been fired by a re^ijg " S,Zor Chiir'*"'- «>lleetion, and I had noted with . JL . '"* » ««•' many of the best n,™kl " .u «"™« excitement that «ntofa,"X^" '".«"' ""r""" "^« ™»™'- entertained by^L:!^ tt'jll^u'i t"' ' ""'. "^ m.ttent seareh. then, only with^K' • *" "^ """" 'oeal versions of thi «Ltal „M ?T *° ?««"' «>■"< more enlightened IfT^ . "!*''• »"* ">» "ther new ffht I Ip»rr,o^ presented Bob m an entirely --". .Ae is L trnetuSo'r , ~'''^°' "■-* "««ly. that no popular veZn J '''»™"«««nent, cient or modem, cTteJ!^",""' ""^ '"« of b.ll«I. an- j! The Quxst or the Ballad Dick Hinds. During his youth and prime Dick foUowed the sea mtermrttently ; then he settled down for good and ^mtheviUage. Here he wrought as occasiofoffered or as (AiU penury demanded, and here as elsewhere he fashwned many a subtle demonstration of his great dis- covery that the world is flat. Times without nSr^ my youthful days I have looked on while Dick, with penal or^alk m hand, has sketched his pUn of the world on a L^UKi* Ju' ''J**^''*' """^^ ™ 'o' *he moment ;ifll ' T^ ^^' ^"^ ^' trimnphant challenge to the flat as the background on which it was then being repre- s» ed^^or to maintain, if they dared, that any spot on this Ts^ Pdr*" "^"^n^Wy be called N^rth Pole Dick had various devices for holding off the gaunt wolf "throw *"'"•:" ^r'"* ** *^^^ - night^atcCn' in the old saw-miU on the river-bank. Thither, on winter evemngs would I repair joyously, to be receiv d" 7^ ^e cordiality aj,d good-feUowship as if I had been Z old sailors equal in years and in understanding. He ThildTh k!:? * ""1^' °^ '"^^^ ^°"*^»^" ^ « ^™ spot listen to such wisdom as no schoolbook ever afforded, London and Liverpool were glowingly described from the siu or s point of view, the political situation in CanadTwas cnticaUy reviewed, and the Scriptures were f «X ™ pomided. But whatever the topic might chance to be It was always introduced by a leading Aion. p'^de^* wll f ""f*. Wa^n* s^^^'ty. though Dick's only^se h'arel" a„T? ' *°P•^^^-''y "^^ «t-ngly befoTL^ hearer, and he never asked the question without having 64 Rimes or an Awcunt AiAUNn his own answer ready to give after a suiUble Dau». fn. further emphasis. "What." he would «t T ^- T "Wh«t HiH *).. T -J . "*** "*• '^^ m«t«nce, led huge cloud, of tolacco-raoke T^ filT • ^^ puceonairth! England, the ruler of the mrfj .i,. _.l of science, uid the seat of Umin'l" '* *^ "* Ammg Kck-. faKin.tioD. for the young wm «, ,„„ Pirate. wLthr^t,d"™?K^ ***.'*^' "' ^'"^ «« .o^ihejfrs- - T^rtrT;:;.'- - weirsirt&e::^,^^:^^^!^- perfectly •"d no song, with th^L r ^ ™ """* «»' »» the ..king. However, ^XtSld'^ '""'"'* round, and I «pri„.j ^ wMnd sununer came to 'heC i e j^ffr'i'tr:^;'""'. "^ '^^ »?«•«« >ny previous negleJI ■•<> t«« in making up for -Pertory. hut BoVa ooliron^^l^Zl^Lt'tS 65 11 V I V * v\ TwL Qunr of thk Ballad compired with Dick's. The latter had begun by learning some traditional ballads current in Nova Scotia in his youth; during his seagoing days he had acquired further ballads and countless sea-songs from his companions in the forecastle; and he had added to the complexity of the list by making several additions gathered from the streets, wharves, and music-halls of the various cities which he had visited in his travels. This puazling collection he himself regarded with great cahnness and impartiality, and there were only two specimens that he marked for special ap- proval. These were "Kelly the Pirate" and "Jack Dona- hue." The first I shall have occasion to discuss in another chapter, but the second I should like to present here. In one form or another it has been sung m Australia, Great Britain, Canada, and the United SUtes; and this is one of my reasons for presenting Dick's version, which is more detailed and complete than the ones usually found. But my chief reason is that I have heard Dick sing it so often and so ardently that without it my recoUections of him would be strikingly incomplete. Come all you gallant bushrangers and outlaws of disdain, Who scorn to dwell in slavery or wear the brands of chains. Attention pay to what I say, and value it if you do, I will relate the matchless fate of bold Jack Donahue. This bold undaunted highwayman, as you shall under- stand. He was banished for his natural life from Erin's happy land. In Dublin city of renown his first breath ever he drew. And his deeds of valor entitled him of bold Jack Donahue. M Run OF iir Ax asNT MUmnfB Thqr we« th. four M^cUte, of boU J«k D«,rtue Sd'lSr.!i '» ■* t^" » «» »i1PPLIED IM^GE Inc 1653 East Mom Slrefl Rochester, r^w York 1*609 USA (716) i.e2 - 0300 -Plione ('16) 288 - 5989 - To. I w The Quest of the Ballad "O no," said cowardly Wangelo. "such things can never be. Don't you see there's eight or ten of them? It's time for us to flee. And if we wait we'll be too late, and the battle we 11 surely "Then begone from me. you cowardly dogs," cried bold Jack Donahue. The sergeant said to Donahue, "Discharge your carabine. Or do you intend to fight with us or unto us to resign? "To surrender to such cowardly dogs I never mtend to do. This day I'll fight for Uberty," cried bold Jack Donahue. "Now if they had been true to me I would recall their fame. . . But now the people will look on them with scorn and great disdain. I'd rather range the wild woods round like a wolf or a kangaroo j u u t i- Than I'd work one hour for government," cned bold Jack Donahue. The sergeant and the corporal they did their men divide. Some men fired behind him and others at his side. The sergeant and the corporal they both fired at hrni too Till at length a ball it pierced the heart of bold Jack Donahue. Nine rounds he fired and shot five police before the fatal That pierced the heart of Donahue and caused him for to And as he closed his struggling eyes he bade the world Kind* Christians all, pray for the soul of bold Jack Donahue. 6S "Woman ! the companion of man an' he's rock of salvation in times of affllitioii an' sorrali." II IMI Rimes 02^ a.\ siMcasr Mabines There is in this ball.^ ? a fine resonance and a rhetorical sweep that made a lai;ge appeal to Dick, whose own speech savored richly of these qualities. But even in such cases as this, where his enthusiasm was greatest, his manifesta- tion of it was of the briefest duration. Opening b . eyes as he delivered the last line, he would smite his knee vigor- ously and in a loud voice annoimce the name of the song: "Jack Donahue the Highwayman!" or "Kelly the Pirate 1" and then lapse into that meditative mood which was the prelude to some high theme such as the House of Lords, "the only body of free men in the Parlyaments of the world." Or, if the ballad happened to be a tale of the dauntless maid who has always been so dear to the popular imagination, some such question as this would follow: "What is the noblest creature that God ever created on airth?" Then in due time would come Dick's own ringing response: "Woman! the companion of man an* he's rock of salvation in times of affliction an' sorrah!" When Dick was minded to uphold such hypotheses as this last one he had small support from the quarter where he should most have expected it. His wife, whom he treated with distinguished courtesy, calling her "Lady Hinds" in moments of expansion, always met these rhap- sodies with disdain, and would interrupt her husband's flight with a request to "stop his fullish talk an' go on with his singin'." Whereat Dick would stoutly maintain that he meant what he said and that no one knew this bet- ter than Lady Hinds herself. But in the end he always made a practical demonstration of his sincerity by giving in goodnaturedly and proceeding with the next song. In the brief space that I have allotted to Dick in these chronicles it would be utterly impossible for me to give i-*^ h The Quoft of the Ballad any just conception )' the infinite variety exhibited by the songs and baUads which he sang for me from time to time. I visited him repeatedly in order to procure the fresh ones that kept rising to the surface of his memory, and, al- though on many successive occasions he gave every out- ward sign of being "sung out," he would just as regularly meet me a day or two later with the hearty greeting, "I thought up another song f er ye last night after I went to bed. Bring yer missis around any time an' ye can have it." Besides, when ladies and gentlemen are spending a social evening together they can hardly be expected to put in all their time at the mechanical business of repeating and copjring songs. , . « ^ Many of Dick's baUads had evidently made their first appeal to him because they presented tales of picturesque heroes with sounding names. I have already suggested this in the case of Jack Donahue. Other protagonists were Dick Turpin, Jack Shepard, and the great soldier of Canadian history who, in Dick's glowing version, is thus pictured in the hour of his crowning triumph: Brave Wolfe drew up his men In a line so pritty On the pla^.s of Abraham Before the city. But countless other heroes in the collection were nameless, or appeared under such nondescript appellations as John or Frank. Of the latter sort was the chief actor in "The Liverpool Landlady," a baUad which was given to me in one form by Dick, and in another, under the title "Green Beds," by Bob Langille. Dick's version begins with he terse expository stanza, 70 ■'^^'P-.v RlMX8 OF AX AnCXENT MaUNXB I'll tell you a story, I'll not keep you Icmg, Concerning a sailor mhoat name it was John. He made a gallant voyage to sea and just relumed to shore. He was ragged and dirty as though he was poor. The last line hints vaguely, but truly, that John may not be quite so poor as he seems, and this fact is discovered with tragic belatedness by his Liverpool landlady, who at first refuses to give him credit or to allow him to court her daughter, and then makes a gross and ineffectual at- tempt to treat the whole affair as a joke when John thrusts his hands into his ragged pockets aad brings them out loaded with gold. This ballad, standing as it does with "one foot in sea and one on shore," must Lave awakened tender monoiies in nuL^y a listener in the fo'c'stle. Dick had several ex- amples of such amphibious song, notably "The Tiger and the Lion." This one, however, barely touched the solid earth before plunging out to sea and into a series of ad- ventures culminating in a ship-to-ship encoimter in which "bold Dig^ton" led his followers to a glorious and com- plete slaughter of the French. But I had much better allow the ballad to appear and demonstrate in its own proper person its adventurous character and sounding quality. Come all you bold seamen that ploughs the rough main, Give ear to my story, the truth I'U explain. There was a misfortune in sad time of war. And how we escaped from the French at Bastar. « Thx Quxst of tbx Ballad There wen leaincn bdd, three hundred and more. Was shut up in prison on Guadeloupe shore. TLey were chained down in prison and sorely oppresied. By painful diseases and famine oppressed. There was a hold seaman, from St. Lords he came, He was generous in action, called Digfaton by name. He had the heart of a lion, the soul of a prince. Through honour and friendship to us did advance. He came to the priscm to bemoan our sad fate. He launched out his gold to relieve our sad state. Five hundred guineas he paid down, and more. Which much did relieve us in that distressed hour. At this generous action the French did complain. It was then they bound him in fetters and chains. They threw him in prison with us, you may see. From his fetters and chains, boys, he soon set us free. "Come all you bold seamen, if you take my advice. Stand true to my ^Ide, it is done in a trice. Down in yon portway the Tiger she lays. She's a well-fc «rv' i , ^ch cruiser, she's fit for the "The captain's o^ \orQ and all things on board. There's plenty of camion, pikes, pistols, and swords. And if you prove valiant and stand by my side. Never fear but we'll board her and sail the next tide." At this generous action we all did agree To break out of prison to die or be free. Two gallant yoimg sailors as his seconds he chose. And a signal of freedom was, "Death to the foesl" 7« RiMKs OF AN Ancunt Maunzb ^en out of the French prwon we aU niihed amain. Two big guns was fired, the French guard was slain. And down to the Tiger we aU took our way. We slipped both her cables, and steered out for sea. ^eir forts being opened, right on us did play. The shot flew like haU as we got under wmy. They battered our spars as we sailed from the shore. To bid them a good-night a broadside did pour. Then early next morning we thought ourselves clear. But for our mistake, boys, we paid very dear. |Twas early next morning just as day we spied The Lion of Pervert bearing down alongside. She supplied us with broadsides, which grieved our hearts sore. Which caused the bold Tiger to make her guns roar. With twenty-six eighteens the Lion did howl; With eighteen brass fours the Tiger did growl. •Twas yard-arm and broadside together did lay ra a shot from the Tiger took his mizzen away. Now said bold Dighton, "If you're tired of the fun You have got your choice, to fight or to run." To shun blood and shiughter we aU did incline. To run from the Lion it was our design. But to our misfortune and our sad distress That very same moment they grappled us fast They tried for to board us thrice over in view. But they were opposed by the Tiger's bold cr^. They trebled our metal with men three to one But Fortune still favoured old Britain's bold sons. 78 Thz Quht of thb Ballad Then up speaki bold DigtiUm, like a hero did feel. His eyes glanced like fury, like the bright varnished steeL "Come each of you seamen on the point of your sword. It's death, boys, or freedcm. We'll all jump on board.** Then over the bulwarks we crushed on our foe. One clip from his sword laid the French captain low. Then down on the decks, boys, their weapons let fall. And on us brave heroes for mercy did call. Swords rattled, pikes, pistols, the swords loud did dadi. The blood on our decks like water did splash. The huge streams of crimson from our scuppers did pour. And the blue sea around us ran purple with gore. "It's now," says bold Dighton, "since the battle is o'er. Let the Frendi learn a lesson, go teach it on shore; Let them go home to their country, and tell them beware For to treat well in future the prisoners of war." We cleared our decks that very same day. The wind from the sou'west, we got under way. And down to Antigua away then we bore. And early next morning we all went on shore. Here's a health to bold Dighton, a true valiant friend. May honour protect him, and glory attend. And when he is dead I pray you'll draw near. And kneel at his tombstone and let fall a tear. When Dick had concluded his sonorous rendition of this ballad I was moved to ask him the idle question, "How do you suppose this song came to be written? Did some- one who was in the battle make up v song about it after- wards?" 74 RlMSi OF AK AVCISNT MAKOtEM, "Oh. good fortuner Cried Dick in tnuMement. "Them feUOTTB could never write poelry like thati It would be l^rf Bynm or Tom Moore, or ioine o' them great poett of Kngltnd." * In ^ck'. topography of hum. jndeavor, it will be ■een. aU roads lead to England, and in his more recent conversations with me his theory was extended with ab- solute consistency to the tragic situation in wbch Emr- tand has lately been playing her part. Ever whenlSB fortunes of the Allies were at their lowest ebb Dick would inquire with that conviction of tone which made his ques- tions more conclusive than another man's assertions. "Do ye thmk th^ can ever conquer England, the home of liberty an the land which is now prosecutin' the glorious work of God?" Then, after receiving from me the inevit- able response, he would bring his clenched fist upon his knee with the brave chaUenge, "Never shall it be said that a foreijpi army has set its foot upon the soil of Englandl" Nor did he faU to evolve an explanation of the fact that *^ *"** r" "^^ *^^* '*^^* <»"* «P«n French soil France, he asserted one evening, "is a great country but a wicked one. She has sinnrd against the Lord in times past, and for that rea'^on the war will be fought an. >- cided within her gates Ye'U fW it « « the Bible. The judge that sentenced our Saviour tt e's death was Pon- tius Pilate, wasn't it?" I asseirted u. this apparently un- related premise. "WeU," resumed Bm, "after Pilate had finished the business an' signed the ^uents sentendn' our Lord to the cross he went to t « Missis Pilate was kym there beside him, an' she m to sleep an' had a great vision of what was to come to ^.*« in the future 5»he seen that our Saviour was an inaoc t man, an' that 7« Tbx Qvmn ow trs Baum^ in time to come her an* PiUte i> uld be baniahed to Gau], •n' that the great war of the natiom would U fought where her and her wicked husband wai to end their livet. An' so it ha* come to paM. The country of Gaul is now the country of France, an* the great war for righteousness •nd truth is now bein' fought on that ground where the murderer of our Lord ended he's days." Many a problem raised by the great clash of the nations was worked out for me in similar fashion by Dick. It was very hard, indeed, for him t j discourse GswuDTX AimQuii yet in the flesh. But to indulge oneielf in murderous de- sires with poor Susan as tiie object would be entirely be- side the point. She simply had not been taken into the confidence of old George and his daughter, who in some way had learned that in these degenerate days the ability to sing old-fashioned songs was more likely to be regarded with merriment than with envy, and who, like many others who were once sweet singers in Israel, had found that it better consorted with their dignity to hiig their harps upon the willows while in exile by the streams of Bahvlom. When these mournful truths were brought homt e they were accompanied by one suggestion of George's daughter, Easter Ann by name— or at k the popular rendition of her name— still remained' ^m ground. To her, accordingly, I prepared to resor since my mind was clouded with a dmibt of my ab awaken candor in her breast, I proceeded, acting an accession of undeniable wisdcnn, to enlist the ser a doctor who had frequently repaired the body George while it was still animated by the spirit, ieeom- panied by this important ally I proceeded with a «lottt heart to the humble cottage of Easter Ann. We were received with the respect due to atlci x. with white collars on, especially as one of the collars t^ circled the neck of a doctor. After a fitting conversatim on the unusual prevalence of illness in the countryside ai. the constant imminence of death, Easter Ann was adked with much circumlocution and many assays of bias if he father had not been a great singer in his day. She admit- ted that he had been, and further asserted that she saw no great harm in singin' old songs if ye liked them, even if everybody did look down on ye for doin* it. My friend 87 to tpon sof I H ' I Thx Qusnr of thx Ballad and I, however, h«d luccessfully driven home an impret- non of our catholicity of taite, for presently she infonned me, in rather doubtful compensation for the Iom of her father, "He wouldn't 'a' minded lingin' for you and the doctor, though." It was at length suggested that Easter Ann, having heard her father sing so often, might hy chance remember a few of the songs herself. Well, she admitted cautiously, she might be able to mind of one o' iHem, but she had a veiy bad heart, f a sombre minor strain iHiidi even Lucy's timid and rather shrill delivery could not rob of its effectiveness. It will be noticed Uiat the story comes to a somewhat abrupt and disjointed condu- aik« "« due foi the old ballad which I shall presently offer. This helpful ZJ^ «"PPl«^ented my rather indefinite requests by a fT!??"uS*i ^ •""* •**°"^^ »^e "^ "^ -bout the 1^ that lolled her two babies." whereat Z%us hw^y mfomed that there was no such song, and was furthi requested not to open her meddlesome mouth amin. I boWIy seccjtid*^ the niece's entreaties, and ext^the admsfflon that there was such a song, entitled "The Green- wood Sidmg, but was assured that it was incredibly fool- ^^ ur!" J'lT ^^« «sP«*»We. and that no- body would be offended sooner than myself if it were sune mi^ presence. In the course of the argument which fol- rj^'Im'r^^^ graciously allowed herself to be persuaded that I was a person not easUy offended, and The Cruel Mother," rendered in a subdued n^or key- 108 N H, i I i H ■^* The Quest of the Baxxao There was a lady came from York. Doton alone in the lonely She fell in love with her father's clerk. Down alone by the greentoood ridhrn She loved him well, she loved fc m long, Down alone in the lonely Till at length this young maid v> ith child she did prove. Down ahne by the greentoood riding She leaned her back against ar oak, Down alone in the lonely Whm first it bowed and then it broke. Down alone by the greenwood riding She leaned herself against a thorn, Down ahne in the lonely And then her two babes they were bom. Down alone by the greenwood riding She took her pen-knife keen and sharp, Down alone in the lonely And she pierced it through their innocent hearts. Down alone by the greenwood riding She dug a hole seven feet deep. Down alone in the lonely She threw them in and bid them sleep. Down ahne by the greenwood riding It's when this young maid was returning home Down ahne in the lonely She saw two babes a-playing ball. Down alone by the greenwood riding 104 t GSKUINB AmiQITXi "O babes, O babes, i£ you were mine, Doten alone in the lonely I would dress you up in silks so fine.*' Down alone hy ike greenwood tiding "O mother. O mother, when we were thine Oown alone in the lonely You did not dress us in silks so fine. Ootvn alone by the greenwood tiding "But you took your pen-knife keen and sharp. Down alone in the lonely And you pierced it through our innocent hearts. Down alone by the greenwood riding "You dug a hole seven feet deep. Down alone in the lonely You threw us in and bid us sleep." Down alone by the greenwood tiding "O babes, O babes, what shall I do Down alone m the londy For the wicked crime I have done unto your liown alone by the greenwood riding "O mother, O mother, it's us can telL Down alone in the lonely For it's seven long years you shaU ring a belL Down alone by the greenwood riding "And seven more like an owl in the wooda. Down alone in the lonely And seven more like a whale in the sea. Down alone by the greenwood riding lOi !d I illl •r, \\ ft 1 1 ifi The Quest of the Ballad *'The rest of your time you shall be in hell, Down tdone in the lonely And it's there you'll be fixed for eternity." Dofom, alone by the greenioood aiding When the singing was concluded 1 hastened to express my satisfaction, laying heavy stress upon the mellow an- tiquity of the ballad. But Isaac's Ellen was inclined to be sardonic. The story, she vehemently suspected, was an out-and-out lie. There might be such things as ghosts, to be sure, and we all knew that there were plenty of people who believed in them; but when it came to a game of ball and a long sermon from the ghosts of two babies it was quite evident that the person who made up the lie was go- ing a little too far. Furthermore, if the song was an old one it seemed rather queer that it should be about a place called the Greenwood Siding. Railroads were started not so very long ago, and the siding, as every educated person knew, was a part of the railroad. I took no bold stand on these abstruse matters, but made haste to copy the ballad and shelter it in my inside pocket from the devastating blast of Ellen's higher criti- cism. It was quite plain that EUen had become modern- ized beyond the limits within which a singer must keep if he is to be an effective perpetuator of tradition. If bal- lads are to be kept alive they must be simg by believers to believers. The least breath of scepticism or of conde- scension is fatal; and while the sceptic may memorize a ballad as an interesting curiosity or copy it down as a significant relic, he cannot nourish it in a soil where it will continue to grow and develop as it has done in the past. I myself regard all popular ballads with affectionate ad- 108 GSKUIME AntIQUBS miratioii, but since I cannot accept the tale of the ghosts with conviction I am even less fitted to perpetuate "The Grerawood Siding" as a popular tradition than was Ellen, who had not entirely shaken herself free from the shackles of behef . Most of the singers whom I have presented in these pages were simple old men and women who not only loved and admired their baUads, but who sang in the un- questioning belief that they were detailing faithful records of actual events; and of such people is composed the slen- der hnk between the collector and the unrecorded tradi- tions of the past. It seems to me to be of great signifi- cance that, out of the scores of ballads which I have heard at VMious times, no other oc > has been thus subjected by tiie smger to the fierce light of rational inquiry. And. m I have shown, it was only by a lucky accident that I was enabled to hear Ellen's singing of "The Greenwood Sid- ing. My firm belief, then, is that ballad-singers— who are of an entirely different race from other singers—per- petuate only those ballads which from their point of view are trustworthy records of actual and important happen- mp, couched in language that is fitting and effective. If Ellen had been absolutely certain that "The Greenwood Sidmg* was an imposture she would probably not have sung it even to her small and credulous niece. The next "English and Scottish popular ballad" which I shaU present received its fuU meed of admiration and confidence from the old man who sang it to me. The ballad is a version of "Captain Wedderbum's Courtship," and the singer was John Adamson, a hale and vigorous youtii of eighty-five, who in his day had mightUy wielded the lumberman's axe, and as migh% had striven with any baUad-smger who had cared to matdi him, song for 107 f> I I i! Ill \ m Thx Qxtest of the Ballad wag. One of his stoutest allies in these stirring times was the merry and resourceful Captain whose courtship ani- mates the following tale: The Duke of Merchant's daughter walked out one summer's day. She met a bold sea-captain by chance upon the way. He says, "My pretty fair maid, if it wasn't for the law I would have you in my bed this night by either stock or wa'.** She sighed and said, "Young man, oh, do not me perplex. * You must answer me in questions six before that I gang awa'. Or before that I lie in your bed by either stock or wa'. "O what is rounder than your ring ? What's higher than the trees? Or what is worse than woman's tongue? What's deeper than the seas? What bird sings first, what bird sings last? Or where does the dew first fall?— Before that I lie in your bed by either stock or wall." "The globe is rounder than your ring. Sky's higher than the trees. The devil's worse than woman's tongue. Hell's deeper than the seas. The roe sings first, the thirst sings last. On the earth the dew first falls. So you and I lie in one bed, and you lie next the wall." 108 • » ' * ' f fn" Gknuinx AmiQusg "You must get for me some winter fruit whirb in De- cember grew. You must get for me a silken cloak that ne'er . wirfl went through, A sparrow's thorn, a priest new-born, before that I gang awa'. Before that I lie in your bed by eithf stock or wa'." "My father's got some winter fruit which in Decern- her grew. My mother's got a silken doak that ne'er a waft went throu^. Sparrow's thorns they're easy found. There's one on every daw. So you and I lie in one bed and you lie next the wa'." "You must get for my wedding supper a diicken without a bone. You must get for my wedding supper a dierry with- out a stone. You must get for me a gentle bird, a bird without a Before that I lie in your bed by either stock or waU." "^ W*^* "^^^ ' ^ ^ ^^ ^'"^ """ ^* ^ °° And when the dieny's in full bloom I'm sure it has no stone. The dove it is a gentle bird. It flies without a gall. So you and I he m one bed and you lie next the wS/' He took her ^ the Wy-white hand and led her through tiie hall. 100 } •f^* f''i Thx Quest of thb Ballad He held her by the slender waist for fear that she would fall. He led her on his bed of down without a doubt at all. So he and she lies in one bed, and he lies next the wall "He rolled over," explained old John in thunderous tones. "That's what it means.— She was a smart gyurl." be added reflectively, "with her riddles an' her puzzles. But she wasn't as smart as him. She met her match when she run across the captain." This song, John explained, was called "Six Questions," and here his explanation ended. I pressed him for infor- mation concerning the history and currency of the ballad, ^t these antiquarian matters were of no interest to him. He had learned it, countless years ago, from his wife, who was no mean singer herself. His wife had learned it from a friend," and there the "Sk Questions" disap- peared m the mist. But the song was a good song and a true, and what more did one need to know? The "Six Questions" I procured on one of my excur- sions in the hiUy region which Ues back from the north shore of Nova Scotia. My next find was made on the sea- coast, m the heart of the district that I was using as a base of operations. One morning I stroUed through a hayfield to where old Sandy Rogers was sitting upon the horse-rake and shout- mg orders to his patient beast with the air of robust indig- nation which is assumed, as a matter of etiquette, by aU men who labor with horses. Sandy, when under the infl- ence of a softer mood, had been overheard by one of my spies in the process of trolling an old and unfamiliar ditty as he was driving in to the bam one evening. He was a no GxKuiNx AmriQuxs man-of-aU-work op a devotee of slothful ease accordimr S'l.^f ?'^?? °' opportunities of the season, andlte fished, shingled bams, worked at the crops, or reposed upon the lap of his dooryard. with equal mind. On the day^ question he was helping one of the fanners to gamer his hay, and as I approached he reined in his horse with a solcnin and portentous air to pass the time of day with me. I couW 81^ oncw" admitted Sandy, while he thought- fully extracted a black fig of Pictou twist from the pStet of his overaUs, "but nobody ever wants to hear th^^ .^ "**''•. ^,^,^»«"« ''^Pi°'^'» knotted his forehead. What on atfth do you want to i^te them down for," he f T?^r' u *^* "*°^ ^^ y*^"* *^*'» ««t he*« house full o books about hist'ry and portry?" I labored to con- Zwnn!? *C. ^ ™r * *^^" **^« «° ^terest in old- fashioned thrngp even if other people were, and finaUy got his promise to thmk up as many old songs as he could id ^woTafri!^;i^.^"*^^'^^«-*™*~-etto Two or three days after this the wind swung round to ^ T^!f^ ^"^^ ^ *^* ^**^' «toJid mass of black S *4'^w,*''"*^ ^ '**°™'»° "^ to the fireside of Sandy. Well, roared my prospective entertainer when I had responded to this summons, "a nice mess I ben mak- in otiiehaysmcelwastalkin'toyel I'd start me horse m gitgom on one o' them blame old songs, an* the first ^^UfZ ^ '^ ^ ^"^-^^y '^^^ *h« fieW with me W ST^J^K^ •''''* ""'."i^^"**'" I '"•de haste to assiui Sandy that^ m my opimon. the cause had fully justified ♦t' TJ^^^ *^ ™"«^* "I«° ^ windrows, since ttie neglected hay was a crop that could be renewed year by year, while the precious ballads which were gamer«i in 111 il ■1 Tna QxjxsT of thb Ballad hi. memory had been gle«ed from a aofl which could never .gam yield this kind of fruit in its sea«m Sandy was inclined, on the whole, to sympathize with th,. pomt of view, and under its muenT^lZr^t rigorously to work. He had several baUads of the se^^f ^wan and of the loves of young men and maidens?ind each, as its turn came, was delivered in tones that caused the fraU waUs and the loosened windows of his cottage to -Wee w,thd««L Finally he seized upon one^wTa^ most mmiediately broke away from him. With a terrific clearmg of the throat he grasped at it again: In India lived a noble lord- He's riches wuz beyond compare. I m settm back m me chair. If I was out on the rake drivm up and down the field. I'd bUme soon give it to* ye^ He suddenly leaped to his feet. "You sef stiU f« a mmute. he commanded, and rushed out into the yard I peeredcautiously through the window, and beheld a shmng spectacle Sandy was marching resolutely up anS ^rJ^l ^" ;r*^ "r" ^*^« "^^ ^^ *°d beird toss- Zii^T V^t "°' '*^ ^'- ^^ ^P' ^o'ked spas- S* ^\r*^ VT' " ^"^^"^ ^^'d °' «y"*We cine ^^^,'^'^J^'^^^^^^gP'>nes. Presently he made a rush for the door, and I had barely time to 4mie my seat and replace my pipe when he hurtled himself through the room, flung himself into his chair, and broke i,^ a ragmg and irresistible torrent of song. The baUad which was thus resolutely hunted down and lit the Jrof^rn*"' '"""•^' "'"' ^■'«"--'>- -"ived the allotted period of iBiBi I i If % I I U i!i m m If' ! il ■I M' •ecurely fettered wu the old Sooteh ballad wfaidi hat ap- peared at varioua timet and in various placet at "Young Bdchan." "Young Bicham," "Lord Bacon," and "Lord Bateman," to mentic:i a few of itt more familiar captioot. The latt-mentioDed title was the one employed by Sandy, and the one, therefore, which had been current in thit dis- trict in the dayt when the ballad had lived, moved, and had itt being. Some parts of Sandy's version were suspiciously inco- herent, and this he himself was quite ready to admit His suggestion was that I should look up his elder brother Dave, who used to sing the song in days gone by, and who could now be found in a village about twenty miles away. Towards Dave, then, I set my course a day or jwo after my visit to Sandy. Both Dave and Sandy had vigorously survived the al- lotted period of the life of man, but Dave still held the superior and somewhat contemptuous attitude towards a relatively youthful and ignorant brother which had been the conventional relation of their earlier days. "Whatr exclaimed Dave with scorn, when I told him of Sandy's recital of "Lord Bateman," "did Sandy try to make ye be- Ueve that he knowed that song? Well, I'm jist very doubtful ii Sandy knowed it. I'm very doubtful if he knowed it. There used to be two people that could sing that song an* sing it right. One o' them was me father an' one was me, an* me father's been dead now for close onto seventeen year." It was doubtless owing to Dave's unwillingness to enter mto a mere competition with the youthful and erratic Sandy that he refused to sing the ballad at this stage. You go ahead," he commanded, "an' read it the way lis i! ■ \ III ■ ! i Ml 4\'\ Ths Qvht or thb Ballad SMidy give it to ye. an' ITl let ye know when he'i got H wrong." I therefore proceeded with the first and second •taniM, and at the conclufioD of each Dare judidaUy sig- nified approval with the remark, "He's heard me sing it often enough to git that part right" Then I read the third stania: He sailM east and he sailM west. Until he came to a Turkish shore. There he was taken and put in prison. And bound down in irons strong. Dave's upraised hand brought me to a sudden halt "Sandy thought," said Dave bitterly, "that he could sing 'Lord Bateman' for ye, did he? Do ye know how that verse goes, when it's sung right?" Dave dosed his eyes and tunefully made answer to himself: He saflM east and he sailM west Until he came to a Turkish shore. There he was taken and put in prison. Where he could neither see nor hear. In such fashion we proceeded through the ballad, at every step observing the most extreme cmition. Some- times Dave yielded to Sandy a grudging approval, and sometimes he convicted him of enormous crimes against truth, correctness, rhyme, and metre. The resultant bal- lad, which I shall now present is as a matter of fact not very different from the original version whidi I procured from the much-berated Sandy: 114 GsifUDrS AlfTIQUBt In Indim lived » noble lord. Hit richei wm beyond compue. He WM the darling of hit paienti. Of tbdr estate the only heir. In India lived a noble lord. Hit xjchet was beyond compare. And yet he could never be contented Until a voyage he took to tea. He iuM east and he saUM west. Until he came to a TuAish shore. There he was taken and put in prison. Where he could neither see nor hear. For seven long months he ky lamenting. He lay kmenting in irons strong, Till he chanced to see the brisk young lady Who set him free f rran his prison chains. The gaoler had one only dau^ter. A brisk young lady gay was she. As she was passing the prison door She chanced Lord Bateman for to see. She stole the keys of her father's prison. And opened it without delay. "Have you got gold, and have you got silver? Have you got houses of high degree? And what would you give to a fair lady '.f she from bcmdage would set you hteV* "Yes, I've got gold, and I've got silver. And I've got houses of high degree. And all I'd give to a fair lady If she from bandage would set me free." lis jmm^ Thb Quest or thx Baxxad "It*s not your gold, nor yet your silver. Nor yet your houses of hig^ degree. All that I want to make me happy, AH that I crave u your fair bod^. "Let's make a bargain and make it strong. For seven long years tiiat it may stand. That you will wed with no other woman. And me to wed with no other man." When seven long years were gone and past. When seven l!= - Thx Qjmn or thx Ballad It's up and steps the new bride's mother. And she was a lady of high degree* Saying, "You have married my onty dau^ter." "Well, she is none the worse of me. "Since my fair one has arrived A second wedding there shall be. Your daughter came on a horse and saddle. She shall go home on a coach and three." He took this lady by the hand. He led her over the marble stones. He changed her name from Susanna fair. And now she's the wife of Lord Bateman. He took her by the lily-white hand. He led her through from room to room. He changed her name from Susanna fair. And now she's the wife of Lord Bateman. My discussion of the Nova Scotian versions of the old EnglisT and Scottish ballads is beginning to exhibit signs of plethora, but it must be still further expanded to in- dude a very interesting version of "Young Johnson." This IS not, so far as I can discover, one of the ballads that were widelv .rent in the good old singing days, but it used to t . by a favored few, and one of these few was John .:■ tasMatheson. John Thomas himself made this mcaut^ui. admission to me one afternoon, and for many a day after he most bitterly regretted his indiscre- tion. He had, to be sure, sung ballads in the early days of his thoughtless youth, but even then he had been inter- ested m his function of entertainer rather than in the in- trinsic merit of his songs, and the intervening years which 111 Fupthermore, John Thomas wia m i^m^^^ * KjQiciog in the inward Baaurmrwm ♦!.-* """»""« "" "Mn, *<* nor pliy. '^ »*l>«th, when we miut neither I «rtart«i fhm J^ ;^ ^ ^ J^" when be Ale to Uiink UP. feH^,^?^™' *'^ •« '»«'* r»f*»»« «n«tion of the UoTm^Z^ ^^"^ mg /iBm John Thomw it iT!! r»l^^ "^ "»°- . tde told by „ iiuT^lvVj^ T^ ^«™**«* «»» ■"-like PiioT^^^lXS' • It^"« "«• '^- "wxhwble «larai.3 i^JJrr ™ "J"" • "W" but 119 Thx Quxbt or thb Ballas girl ^o had found special favor in the light of tiw old man, and she dieof ulty and ocmfidently guaranteed to procure the ballad f or nw if I would leave the whole mat- ter of negotiations to her. Consequently, when Jdtm Thomas loolrad hopef uUy across the load one morning for his usual greeting from his young friend he was met with a request for a song named "Young Johnson," and the following monung, when he was reassuring himself that he had cunningly disposed of the whole matter, he was asked to name the hour after school at whidi he could most conveniently repeui the aong. Day in and day out my accomplice reminded him of the song as Desdemona re- minded OtheUo of the suit of Michael Cassio, and partly through despair at the prospect of an endless persecuticm and partly throu^^ a kindly desire to win approbation from the child whom he delighted to honor, he finally re- peated the following version, vMah was triumphantly copied out and delivered to me by my ally: As Johnson and ihe young Colonel Together were drinking wine Says Johns you like your pillowr she said, "And how do you like your sleep? And how do you like your widow lady That sleeps in your arms so sweet?" "WeU do I like my piUow," he said, "And well do I like my sleep. But ten thousand times better do I like the ghost That stands at my bed feet." Then William he quickly jumped up out of bed. And ran to Margatet's halL There's none so ready as Bfargaret's mother To answer William's night calL "Is Maigaret in her pretty bouzee, Or is she in the haUr "She is laid out in a kmg white robe With her lips as cold as clay." w- » u IfU m 1 1 W W: ' Tbm Quan or tbm B^iuud He kwacd her three tiiiiei o'er. He made an oath, a Mlemn oath, And never kiiied woman more. Mai^garet died on one good day. And William died on the moirow. M«8«^died with a heart fuU of love. And William died for ioiTOw. Mwgaret was buried at the chancel aate. And William wa. buried at the choir. Out of Wilham'a there grew a sweet briar. Till they could grow no higher, Th^ twined together in a true lovers' knot, ihe rose wrapped around the sweet briar 1r^ 1 ' ' '. > u t ! IS6 CHAPTER SEVEN Trm ov CumMT Ballam I ihould now ]ike to pment « Mrt of noA omnmeft. toon of tlie btlkdi which I hare gskheied fhm time to toe Md fai yariouf part. of Not. ScotiiL Nodmaiilcii- «on. to be lure, couM be ooodrtait or induare. SoDie «»^ range thenueheg in groape and othen remain "»jj«ly 2^ pref ening the diitmction ^ indmdudity or eccentricity. And even where ^mTaw ^^;;'^'^ o' the grouping i. .ometime. 5^ooe tod. icmiebmei of another, eo that it i. impoedble to build up • daenilcatian on any dngte or coodrtent bad.. But m d«cu«ng ballad., a. in di.cu«ing men, one may g^ ■omething by generaKaing and l^ dting typksal^ «^ town yanou. gnmp., even though one'. diMunioo dirald be M inoMwequential a. to pa« fhan ghort ballad, to bai- led, with a refrain and from thence to ballad. compoMd in Amcnca. My chief object in thu. generaliaing i. toM. eate roi^ the main varietie. of ballad, that are now cunrent, mnce my own collection i. fairly typicai Fmrt m importance are midi veruons of the genuine dd popular baHad. a. I have pre«rted in the lart STpter. These are now of the greatert rarity in any dirtrict, and are more precious than jcweU and gold. Many of the ve^ finest exMnplcs of the old stock were in the pottCMon of the ^ty settlers «m the north diore of Nova ScotiTaS some of them, as we have seen, wee passed dowTfrom father to son even unto the generation which is now dis- 117 ■^i Ill m I I- I tM ' .If Th» Qum* (» THx Bazxad toigidilied by the witber-d cbeek ind tin ibuiliqg omit Farther thw tlu, they h=,ve tbomu no dispontioD to ad- ▼«ee; «d I regard myself with » glow «f ooB^l»ceiicy wbalr^that,!/ Ihttlnotpiayeti tin knigbl-etwiit to ^ mck of tune, many of thciu. m Biatten of Nor* Scotia traditioo. would now be rating in the muet gnr ^*^^1!^''^ Ontheothcrh«id.it'the mournful n^ection th^t if I had tarted ^it eaa er I ■houW haire procured more Thr ..iditioo -rf ^ one year rt the begaming k of L ttk > d L*f 4Je. But that way madness lies. N more of thai Since I have pretty thn tmgiily disc wed b> * 4er bailadsImaynowprfMjeeukaeiusely t ted, lequally arbitrary divisioii. S. etmi bi^a^is of a u och h eriene^ ation are composed u ¥»n ol»' tr* litin I themes. A few suA I have oollected m Nova Seoti Tn one or two of them the resembhyice to oMer baHad is so dose as to be. ^etty obviously, th« resf^ywice between child and par- ent; m others the jumUar - may ht erely acddentaL if one can ever can accidental the . m,-^ of a motive which has a profound and perrna«I ,ppe I for men. A compansoi) rietwem these balkd and their prototypes yield only ne ^reneral Mclumm. ballads are like wine, andt ' old is I ettertlMD tie new. Bt alln. ine not Hke bad. and I have in my col- lectMHi one .oug, "1 ,e St=a^«ptain." which is not un- worny to be lac^d l«ide i* mellow forefather baUad. "The Broom&ld i ill. -itse. a v^r^ion of a theme eom- n»u in rom«ice, aie. and leg „ aiid ahnost as old and as ^G jH«Mi as the earth we tread on. The theme is that of the laiden ^ ho is lured into the power of a lover, but I9t Trm or Cumsrr Ballam who ezerdaet her nimble witi to lueh good effect— Mine- times employing magic and tometimea hiUiug the wooer to ileep-that ahe ia presently enaUed to eaeape imaullied and i rn h hi T u ed This theme ia thua treated in "The Sea- Captain," a ballad as bright and attraotire aa the leaouioe- ful maiden herself: It was of a sea captain that f dlowed the sea. Let the winds blow high or blow low O. **! shaU die, I shall die/' the sea captain did cry. ''If I don't get that maid on the shore O." This captain had jewels, this captain had gold. This captain had costly a ware O. And all he would give to this pretty fair maid If she'd please take a aail from the shore O. With great persuasions they got her on board. The weather being fine and dear O. She sang so sweet, so neat and ccnnplete, Ihat she sang all the seamen to sleep O. She took aU his jewels, she took all his gold. She took all his costly a ware O. She took his broad sword to make her an oar. And she paddled her way to the shore O. "O were my moi mad or were my men drunk. Or were my men deep in despur O, To let her away with her beauty so gay. To roam aU alone on the shore O," "Your men were not mad, your Your men were not deep in I deluded your men as well I'm a maid again on tlw h. ""not ^r 1 1.1 IS9 m ThZ Quzbt 07 THE BaLLAD The Other ballad which I ahaU select from thia daw hM little to recommend it beyond its fine adaptability as an iUustration of the rule that the old is better. Inaprevious Aapter I have presented the Nova Scotia version of Ijoid Bateman," which, by merns of a simple and ap- parently unimpassioned narrative, first moves us to love and sympathy for the enamoured Turkish maiden, then harrows us with suspense for the outcome of her piteous attempts to find her lover, and finally enables us to throw up our hats rejoicing that she wiU never again have to sail the seas east and west "The Turkish Lady," a more modem baUad which apparently takes its starting-point from "Lord Bateman," makes repeated rhetorical attempts to enlist our sympathy and admiration, but succeeds only m persuadmg us that the youD- man is a prig who would not have deserved his good fortune but for the fact that a substantial part of the fortune is a mere love-ridden and vaallatmg lady whom he has met in Turkey. The ballad, to be sure, would be weU enough if it did not challenge the fatal comparison with a much better one,— which wiU bo more evident, perhaps, if I pennit it now to speak for itself: ■^ Young virgins all, I pray draw near. A pretty story you shall hear. 'Twas of a Turkish lady brave That fell in love with an English slave. A merchant ship at Bristol lay As we were sailing o'er the sea. By a Turkish slaver took were we. And all of us made slaves to be. IM Types of Cusbent Ballads They bound us down in irons strong. They whipped and lashed us all along. No tongue could tell, I'm certam sure, What we poor seamen could endure. Come set you down and listen a while. And hear how fortune did on me smile. It was my fortune for to be A slave unto a rich lady. She dressed herself in rich array. And went to view her skves one day. Hearing the moan the young man made. She went to him and thus she said: "What countryman, young man, are you?" "An EngKshman, and that is true." "I wish you were some Turk," said she, "I would ease you of your misery. "I'll ease you of your slavish work If you'll consent and turn a Turk. I'll own myself to be your wife. For I do love you as my life." "No, no," then said he, "Your conscience slave, madam. 111 be.* I'd sooner be burnt at a stake Before that I'd my Gkxi forsake." This lady to her chamber wait And spent her night in discontent. Little Cupid with his piercing dart Did deeply wound her to the heart • The lint two lines of the ttaim ue. it l« wuml* »« __,_. ISl L '4 ■ a hi ^ \i \ ^ li The Quest of the Ballad She was resoIvM >;he next day To ease him of his slavery. And own herself to be his wife. For she did love him as her life. She dressed herself in rich array, And with the yomig man sailed away. Unto her parents she bade adieu. By this you see what love can do. A very large and important division of the ballads now current is the one presenting variations of the following motive: A traveller, newly arrived in the country, ap- proaches a maiden, and, with apparently indecent haste, makes proposals for her hand. The maidm rejects him with scorn, remarking that she has, in some foreign land or out upon the seas, a lover to whom she wiU remain faithful until he comes to claim her. The stranger makes repeated and unsuccessful attempts to shake her faith in the absent one, but at last produces half of a gold ring, proving that he himself is the long-absent lover, who, years before, divided a ring with this identical maiden in token of betrothal. Just why the returned lover should thus prolong the delicious moment of recognition is not always clear. From his point of view the conversation may be simply a revelling in the joys of artificial suspense, or a somewhat dubious method of breaking the news of his re- turn. It always, however, produces the same constant ef- fect upon the ballad-singer's audience, which is trans- ported with admiratir . o^ the unwavering fidelity of the maiden to her plighte<^ ■ r h. A fair example of i i class is the following untitled baUad: 132 It" fi Types of Cubbemt Ballads As a maid was walking in her garden A single sailor came riding by. He stepped up to her, he thought he knew her. He said, "Fair maid, can you fancy I?" "You appear to me like some man of honor. Like some noble lord you appear to me. How can you impose on a poor young creature Who is not fitted your servant to be?" "If you're not fitted to be my servant, ^ I have some great reward for thee. I'll marry you, I'll make you my lady. And I'll have servants to wait on thee." "I nave a true love all of my own, sir. And it's seven long years he's been to sea. And it's seven long years I'll wait upon him. If he's alive he'll return to me." "How can you fancy a roving sailor? How can you fancy such a slave? He may be dead in some foreign country. Or else the ocean has proved his grave." "If he's alive I'll hope to see him. And if he's dead I hope he's blest ; 'Tis for his si^e I'll never marry. For he's the one that I love best." "Such a girl as you I do admire. Such a girl as you to be my bride. You shaU have gold and silver plenty. And treasures flowing on every side." iss tMm J / I • , I fl i ' ) t' The Quest of the Ballad "O what care I for your gold and silver? O what care I for your birth and land? what care I for your old maid-servant If my own sailor returns to me?" He slipped his hand into his pocket. His fingers were both slim and smaU. He pulled out a ring that was broken between them. Soon as she seen it she down did fall. He picked her up into his arms, And kisses he gave her, one, two by three. Saying, "I am yoiu* young and your single sailor. I've just returned to marry thee." "If you're my true and my single sailor Your shape and color do not agree. But seven years makes a great alteration. And sure there's seven since I did you see.** To church they went and they both got married With their two hearts full of love and content. He stays at home and takes his ease, And he goes no more on the raging seas. 1 have collected, at various times, about a score of bal- lads of this class, and each one presents a slightly varied form of the animating motive. Scnnetimes the lover has been at sea, sometimes in the anny, sometimes in foreign lands carving out his fortunes, and in one case he has been through the Napoleonic wars and has just returned from the Battle of Waterloo. The arguments by which he tests the faith of the maiden are also varied. In the ballad just presented he merely resorts to the conjecture that the ab- Ttfes of Cubsent Ballads sent lover is dead or unfaithful; but often he goes a step further and a£Bnns that he knew the lover, and either wit- nessed his death or else beheld him revelling in the charms of a new mistress. Usually, also, an attempt is made to impart an air of verisiinilitude to the situation by provid- ing some sort of natural disguise for the returned lover, since he could hardly expect to confront his old sweetheart in broad daylight and in the same figure in which he had formerly associated with her. Sometimes he speaks from behind the mask of nig^t, and sometimes, as in the ballad just given, he has grown stouter and browner during the intervening years. Under cover of one of these disguises he confidently pursues his conversation with the sorely tried maiden, who f requoitly weeps, and Munetimes f ainti^ but who remains steh-. ast in the face of every inducement to do otherwise, and in the end is always rewarded by see- ing the apparent stranger transformed into the actual lover. Another very prevalent motive, in the ballads which I have met, is that of the maiden who wishes to clothe her- self in men's attire and accompany her lover to sea or to the wars. In some cases the ballad is taken up with the arguments of the two lovers on this topic, and in others the maidoi allows her sweetheart to go on his way, then quietly dons her masculine disguise and follows him. The sample which I shall now present is of the argumentative sort: 'Twas in one summer season, the twentieth of May, We hoisted our English colors and we did make for sea. The sun did shine most glorious. To Lisbon we were bound. The hiUs and dales were covered with pretty maids all round. i^'i w M ' Hi/ El. Ths Quest of ths Ballad I spied a handsome sailor just in his blooming yean Just coming to his true love to let her understand That he was going to leave her and sail for some foreiim land. *^ "The King has wrote for seamen, and I for one must go. And for my very life, my love, I dare not answer no." "Oh stay at home, dear Willie, and I wiD be your wife, For the parting with you, Willie, is the parting of my "But if I was to stay at home another would take my place. And that would be a shame for me, likewise a sad dis- grace." "My yellow hair I will cut off, men's clothing I'U put on. 1 11 be thy body-servant, likewise thy waiting-man." "Thy waist it is too slender, love, thy fingers are too smaO To wait on me in battle where many a man does fall. Where cannon they do rattle and bullets they do fly. And sUver trumpets they do sound to drown the dismal cries." "My yeUow hair I wiD cut off, men's clothing I'U put on. No storms or dangers do I fear, let the winds blow high or low." "But if I was to meet some other in sweeter charms than thee. And she was to please my fancy, what would my Nancy say?" ' "What would I say, dear Willie? and I would love her too. And I would gently step aside whUe she would be talkinir to you." ® 186 TTl>ii« OF CUBXXNT BillXADS "Dear Nancy, all these words are enough to break my heart. Pray let us then be married before that we depart" •Tow this young couple's married and they sail o*er tiie main, i. hope good luck may attend them till they return again. In this ballad the lover and his mistress depart together in the guise of two comrades; but far oftener the maiden is left behind mourning, and she then adopts men's attire before proceeding alone to seek her lover. But regularly in this class of ballads, as in the one previously discussed, the journeys end in lovers meeting,— with one tragic ex- ception, the ballad of "Willie Taylor." In this rather curious variation of a well-recognized ballad motive the maiden reaches tiie end of her journey only to find her faithless Williun in the company of a new mistress, and she then promptly and ruthlessly slays him amid the plaudits of the bystanders, and— it is worth noting— with the complete approval of those who sing the ballad of her adventures. The account of this episode, which is brief and pithy, is as follows: Willie Taylor, brisk young sailor, courted by a lady gay, A day or two before the marriage pressed he was and sent away. She dressed herself in men's attire, boldly entered for Jacky Tar. Her lily-white hands and long slender fingers daubed they were with pitch and tar. 187 ik I;'- >b n ; J: The Quest of the Ballad When she came to the field of battie there ahe atood amongst the rest. A silver button flew off her waistcoat, there appeared her milk-white breast When the captain saw this wonder he said. "What wind has blown you here?" "I am in seareh of my true love whom you pressed and I love dear." "If you're in search of your true lover tell to me your true love's name." ••My true love's name is Willie Taylor whom you pressed to the Isle of Man." F"--*" "If your true love is William Taylor I find he is a false young man. For he is to be married to-morrow to a lady of this land. "If you rise early in the morning, early by the break of day. There you'U see young WiUie Taylor walking with his lady gay." She rose early in the morning, early by the break of day. And there she saw young WUUe Taylor walking with his lady gay. She caUed out for a sword and pistol, sword and pistol at her command, And then she shot young Willie Taylor and his bride at his right hand. T'-^ien the captain saw this wonder he laughed loudly at the fun. Saying. "You shall be captain and chief commander over my sailors every one." IS8 if: » »« ■' Ttpm or CuiuNT Ballam If Willie Tsylor was m ooiutaiit a lover, ms oonstaat & lover as he could pretoid. She never would have been so cruel as her true bve's days to end. The districts where I have found most of my ballads are (m or near the sea-coast, and, as mig^ be expected, tlM collectiim has a very fair sprinkling of sea ballads. Sane of these are designed merely to show the dangers and de- lij^ts of life on the ocean, but most of them are of a more sanguinary nature, mstinct with the hist of battle, and ringing with triumph for victory over the enemies of Britain. I have three of these whidi present varying ac- counts of the mighty single combat between the Chesa- peake and the Shannon, and each of the three singers f KMn wfacnn I procured them gave me a solonn warning not to sing them "in the States,'* as the inevitable result of such boldness would be a thrashmg at the hands of the enraged American audience. This advice I have carefully observed, not from any base fear of American leprisals, but f nun an amply warranted convicticni of my inability to sing "in the States" or in any other country. But one of the three ballads I feel that I can here present with complete safety, in any case, since the only version of it that I could find is inccunplete, stopping short with a be- coming delicacy and moderation while the victory still hangs in the balance. The surviving portion runs tiius: 'Twf 'f the Shannon frigate In the merry mcmth of May; To watch those bold Americans Off Boston light she lay. 1S9 tfflP j l^ 'I I ••* -', ik . ! i I mi WW t^i> u : \ 11 The Qum' or the Ballad The Chesapeake lying in harbor, A frigate stout and fine. She had four hundred and sixty men on board. And her guns was forty-nine. Captain Brooke he conunanded us, A challenge he did write To the captain of the Chesapeake To bring her out to fight. He says, "My noble Lawrenc«>, Don't think it's through enmity. For it's to show to all the world . That Britain rules the sea." The challenge being accepted, The Chesapeake she bore down. And she was as fine a frigate As belonged to the British crown. Yard arm and broadside For a quarter of an hour. When that enemy's ship drove up alongside. And her yard got locked in ours. At this point the singer's memory flatly refused to work and we were compeUed to leave the two stout frigates with yards locked, in a state of perpetual mortal combat. But the «ici«it bard who sang the baUad was careful to warn me that I should not be lulled into a false sense of security ^thiscuxnmistance. "If I was you." he said, "I wouldn't fay to smg that one when I go back to the States. They know very well how the Chesapeake got licked, an' they 140 Trm or Cwaan Bjdjjjm wou!)in't thank ye fer puttin' them in mind of it— III give ye one," he ezchumed pxeaoitly, after a few minutes of anxious reflection, "that the Yankeeill like better than that one. It's about their great aea-captain that was named Paul Jones." The song that f oUowed was a brief but stirring account of how Paul Jones sailed from Baltimore in his frigate, "the Richard by name," and how he presently cleared the decks for an engagement with two British warships that hove in view. The cowardly ship's carpenter attempted to dissuade him by announcing that the ship was leaking like a basket, but the undaunted Paul "in the height of his pride" made the following answer: "If we can't do no better let her sink alongside.'* So they hove to and went at it, or, in the nobler language of the poet, who feigns himsdf to have been one of the crew. We f oi^t them four glasses, four glasses so hot. Till fifty bold seamen lie dead on the spot. And fifty-five wounded and bleeding in gore. While the thundering loud cannons of Paul Jcmes did roar. The end, of course, is an unqualified victory for Paul J(mes, who then invites his brave foUowers to "drink deep f nnn the can" in honor of their country. This is the only sea-ballad that I have found in iddch the enonies of Britain are generously allowed to bear away the victo^. I have acquired considerable numbers 141 -I I'i 1 'f ■'It i'fi. Th« Qusrr of th« Ballat from Bob LwigiUe, Dick Hinds, wid other lew proliik «ii«er^ but in every other cue the moke of battle cletn •wiiy to reveal the Union Jack flaunting itself above the high seas. Nelson's victory at Trafalgar is the theme of several rousmg accounts, and some five or six deal with tte Government operations against the pirates. Two of th«ie are narratives of the combat which swept from the Captain Cooper gave orders on the fint of Hay To cruise in the Channel for our enemy— To protect our commerce from that daring foe And aU our merchant ships where they would go. Chorus. Then it's O Britons, stand true. Stand true to your colors, stand true. It was eariy one moriilng, to the wind we did Ic 'The man at the mast-head a saU he did spy. A sail! O, a saU!" he loudly did cry, "She is a large cutter and seems to Uy by." Our noble commander he pulled out his glass. So did our lieutenant to see what she was. Our captain stepped up and he viewed her aU round Says. "That's KeBy the Pirate. . il bet fifty pound! ^on't you see that villain ?» he cried. "Make sail! We 11 soon overtake him, my boys, I'D give bail Lay aloft, shake your reefs out, set everything dear And up with your helium and for him well steer." ' 14« Trras (HP CuisDiT Ballam We Mukd till we cAme within gumhot Bold Kelly be seemed for to value uf not With a loud vokx like tbinder Cooper did My, "Load your ^uns, lig^t your matdwt, and Are awayl" We engaged with that cutter four hours and more, Till the blood from our scuppers like water did pour. Vnth round and grape metal we peppered bis bull Till down came bis nuBKnmaft, colors and all We towed him in Portsmouth that very same day. And then on to Newgate sent Kelly away. Here's a health to our captun and officers toa Here's a health to Stag frigate and all of her crew. In this ballad all tiie sympathies are enlisted on the side of law and order, and the luckless Kelly the Pirate is sent oa bis way to the gallows without a nf^ Many of the Nova Scotia ballads celebrate the adventures of big^iway- men, and these, aa. the contrary, are always narrated from the point of view of the sympathker. Jack Shepard, Jack Williams, and bold Jade Donahue are the heroes of a thrilling series of tales in verse. In a previous chapter I h»ve presented tiie ballad wbkib deals with the career of Donahue, beginning at the time when "in Dublin city of renown his first breath ever he drew," cimducting him on bis enforced journey to Australia, and leaving him f The Quxst or tbz Baixad But usually he is facii^ the impleuant prospect of bdng hanged by the neck until he is dead, in which case he most lustily impl(»es the L(»d to have mercy on his soul, and most heartily abases hioHelf during the redtal of his mis- deeds. I have one ballad of Nova Scotia origin which is a fine example of this da^s. It is the last confession of Charles Augustus Andersen, &ae of a group of mutineers who, many years ago, were apprehended and sent to Halifax to be hanged— all of which I shall rekte in fuU in another chapter. In this ballad the unhappy mutineer states, with a lugubrious mixture of boldness and c(»trition: Charles Augustus Andersen is my right and proper name. Since I came to custody I ne'er doiied the same. I came of honest parents altlbtugh I die in scorn. Believe me, now I much lamost that ever I was bom. Then he proceeds to reUAe the rtory of the mutiny in which he was implicated, lajni^ heavy steess on his own native goodness of heart and an the baleful nature of the ii^u- ence which was brought to bear upon him through the counsels of older and wickeder own. Chief of thne was the scoundrel Fielding, who is introduced in the f oUowii^ mournful stanzas: They shipped me on boiffd tiie Saladin, as you will understand. She was bound for Valparaiso. Mackenzie had com- mand. We arrived there in safety without the least delay. Till Fielding came on board of her. Curse on that fatal day I IM Types of Cubbknt Ballads 'Tw«8 Fielding who induced us to do that horrid crime. We might have prevented it if we had thought in time. We shed the blood of innocents. The same I don't deny. We stained our hands in human blood, for which we have to die. Charles Augustus eondudes his recital; then follow two stanzas describing with mingled grief and admiration thf scene which put a period to this blighted caietf. "With his own hand," exclaims the poet, With his own hand he greased the cord that cut the thread of life. An even finer example of this class is "The Flying Cloud." This ballad narrates at great length the history of another possessor of the sinister name of Anderson, who is, iwwever, related to Charles Augustus only in his uiifortunate and entirely innocent predilection for being decoyed into the paths of crime. This victim of evil and designing companions is allowed to appropriate the ballad from beginning to end, and we are left to conclude for ourselves that when his song was ended he was led out to swing upon the gallows-tree. He begins with a cheerful confidence almost bordering on defiance: My name it is Robert Anderson, I'd have you to understand. I belong to the city of Waterford, Near Erin's happy land. When I was ymmg and in my prime. And health did on me smile. My parents doted on me, I being their only duR •! i I. W' )f The Qitxst of thx Ballad But gradually the tone grows bitter and despondent Robert falls in with Captain Moore, a fiend in man's shape who invites him to ship on board his slave-trader, "The Flying Cloud." The transporUtion of slaves, as Robert unctuously describes it, is a tolerably brutal employment, but it is entirely too easy-going a life for Captain Moore, who presently comes out with a new suggestion for Rob- ert and the other innocents on board his ship: "There's gold and silver to be had If you with me ronain. Weni hist the lofty pirate flag And scour the Spanish Main." To this of course we all agreed, Excepting five young men, And two of them were Boston chaps. And two from Newfoundland. The other was an Irishman Bel(mging to Trimore. I wish to God I had joined those men And went with them on shore. We robbed and plimdered manys a ship Down on the Spanish Main, Caused many a widow and orphan child In sorrow to remain. Their crews we made them walk the plank. Caused than a watery grave. For the saying of our captain was That a dead man tells no tales. iss At last a gloomy day dawna upon The Flymg Cloud She is overtaken and captured by a Spanish man^'war, her captain is killed, and her crew sent to Newgate to bide the journey to the gallows-tree. As we take mtr leave of poor misguided Robert he is awaiting the summons and bittorly cursing the evil influences that have conspired tc* bring him to this sorry pass: 'Tis drinking and bad company That made a wretch of me. Come all young men, think of my downfall, And curse to the pirate sea. It is an easy transition fi or in general character, that is, each of them relates the grue- some tale of a murder exposed through a supernatural agency. The only difference is that in one case this agency is a dream and in the other it is a ^bost In the former class we have such ballads as "The Con- stant Farmer's Scm," which was sung to me by old John Adamson in his little garden one brij^t summer morning when it seemed quite incredible that murders and murder- revealing dreams could ever find a place in a world so peaceful. Nevertheless, John assured me that the scxig was strictly true, and if he had been, like his companicm, a pedant and not a jolly old ballad-singer, he could h&ve caUed upon Boccaccio and John Keats to conoborate his 158 II! Tmk Quxst of the Ballad •tatement For "The Constant Farmer*! Son" ii a pop- ular ver8i(Hi of a tale which was told nearly six hundred years ago in the Decameron, and whidi was expanded by Keats into the beautiful poetic narrative of "Isabella." It is the tale of the fair young woman of gentle birth who falls in love with a young man who is onployed cm her father's estate, and who starts up in bed one ni^^t frmn the dreadful and prophetic vision of her murdered lover: As Mary on her pillow lay she dreamt a shocking dream. She dreamt she saw her own true love down by a purling stream. So Mary rose, put (m her clothes, to meet her love did run, In ycHider vale lies cold and pale her constant farmer's son. After spending a nig^t and a day watching over her lover's body she returns hcmie and accuses her two broth- ers. Those villains confessed the murder, and for the same did die. Young Mary she did fade away but never ceased to cry. Her parents they did fade away. The glass of life had run. Poor Mary sij^ed, and then she died for her consUmt farmer's son. I Of very much the same sort is the ballad of "Young Emily," or "Young Edmund," as it is variously entitled. Edmund is betrothed to Emily and then goes to sea to earn money for himself and his sweetheart. After seven years he returns loaded with gold which he triumphantly shows to Emily, and they plan that he shall lodge in- 1A4 Trm ow CuisBsrr Ballam oognito at her f atber't public-home that night But dur- ing the ni|^t Young Emily in her chamber She dreamt a dreadful dream. She dreamed ahe taw young Edmund Float in y(« eryital ttraun. She arises in the morning and questima her father, iHw confesses the murder of Edmund. ThoD she goes to the justice with her stoiy, and her father is brought to trial The jury found him guilty. And hanged he was also For the murder of young Edmund, yf\ui plowed the Lowlands low. Another Dream Ballad, composed on a motif that will be recognized by everyone who reads his Bible, is "The New York Trader." It differs from the coaventional bal- lads of the class in that the dreamer is the criminal him- self, and he reveals his guilt to a friend under tiie influ- oice of the fear which has beoi imposed u ' f ) li. The Quest of the Ballad Being in necessity. All by our captain's cruelty. Our captain in the cabin lay; He dreamt a dream, those words did say: "Prepare yourselves and ship's company. For tomorrow night you must lie with me.* Our captain awoke in a terrible fright, It being the first watch of that night Loud for the bos'n he did call. And to him related his secret aU. "Captain," said he, "if this be so, let none of your ship's crew know. But keep your secrets in your breast. And pray to God to give you rest." "There is one thing more I have to telL When I in Waterf ord town did dweU 1 killed my master, a merchant there. All for the sake of his lady fair. "I killed my wife and children three All through that cursM jealousy. And on my servant laid the blame. And hang^ he was for the same." Early next morning a storm did rise, Which caused the seamen much surprise. The sea broke over us fore and aft Till scarce a man on the deck was left. Then the bos'n he did declare Our captain was a murderer. That so enraged all the ship's crew. They overboard their captain threw. 156 H .;>>! Types of Cukrent Ballads When this was done a cahn was there. Our good light ship homeward did steer. The wind abated and cahned the sea, And we sailed safe to America. And when we came to anchor there, Our good light ship for to repair. The people wondered much to see What poor distressed shipwreck were we. The Avenging Ghost motif operates in very much the same way. We have had illustrations of it in two of the ballads which I have had occasion to quote in earlier chap- ters, "The Greenwood Siding" and "The Gaspard Trag- edy." In the former a mother murders her twin babies, and when she is returning home from her criminal expe- dition she meets the ghosts of "two babes a plajing at ball" ; in the latter William betrays and murders his sweet- heart and goes to sea, but one night the ghost of his mur- dered Mary visits the ship, William is convicted of sin, "and raving distracted he died that same nij^t." Another good illustration is an untitled ballad narrating Ihe shadier side of the cureer of a Lothario-like sailor, who opens the ballad with a gay statement of his own life and habits, in- cluding the rather unctuous confession: The female sex I did beguile. And two of them I had with child. One of these members of the "female sex" he marries, and the other he leaves to her fate, which is suicide. But N«nesis is on his track, and presently overtakes him. ',:!, 1«7 r 4 \ '* m i l.pf i".i\i i i i t; The Quest of the Ballad One day as he was sailing on the mainmast high, A little boat he chanced to spy, And in that boat was a ghost so grim. Which made him tremble in every limb. It's to the deck this yomig man goes. His mind to the captain for to disclose. "O captain, captain, stand on my defense. For here's a spirit coming hence." It's on the deck the captain goes To help this yomig man to face his foes. "It is well known I was a maid When first by you I was betrayed. "You betrayed me once. I have you now. I am a spirit come for you. And now I've told you my mournful song. All you who know where love belongs." With great persuasions unto the boat The young man he was forced to go. The boat it sunk in a flame of fire. Which made the ship's crew all admire. I have dwelt long enough upon the "doleful matter" of the various types of Murder BaUads. and must now turn to another arbitrary and completely unrelated division. Many of the later baUads, especiaUy those of Irish origin are characterized by the introductory formuk "Come all you" or "Come aU ye," and are classed genericaUy as Come-aU-ye's." Of these I have gathered a considerable number m Nova Scotia. So far as motive or theme is con- cerned they show no sense of restriction, ranging the whole IM Tyfes of Cubbent Ballads gamut from stately themes of love and war &mn to the broad pleasantries of the music-hall song. The formula of invitation is emplc^ed to specify the sort of audience that may be counted on to bring an intelli> gent and sympathetic appreciation to the narrative that follows. Sometimes this potential audience extends all- embracingly to the utmost limits of the world, as in the fol- lowing inclusive invitation. Come all you people, far and near. In other cases a slight attempt at selection is made, as. Come all ye men and maidens, and listen to my song. If you pay good attention 111 not keep you long. Or, as frequently happens, the doors are barred against all but the venerable: Come all you aged people, I pray you lend an ear; When you hear my feeling story you can't but shed a tear. When a "Come-all-yc** celebrates an English victory the opening invitatica is, naturally, addressed to those only who could be expected to fed a proper enthusiasm. The song of "The Battle of Ahna" begins, Come all you Britons, I pray give ear To these few lines I've brought you here. The geographical or racial line may be employed, also, merely to serve notice on the f ellow-countrjmiai or neigh- bors of tiie hero in the action. The ballad of John Mor- rissey begins, 159 ^a A ^-^ • • • > ' tl k'^ The Quest of the Ballam Come all you true Irish boys, please listen to me. I will sing you the praises of John Morrissey. The sea-ballads, when they open with an invitation, ex- tend It, of course, to sea-faring men. The f oUowing are a few examples: Come all you jovial sailors bold. The trutii to you I write, Consaming of the raging sea Which is my heart's delight. Con*w all you jolly tarsmen, come listen to my song. If you pay good attention I'll not keep you long. Come all >ou bold seamen that plow the rough main. Give ear to my story. The truth I'll explain. The distinctions upon which the above invitations rest are all dear and consistent, but in other cases it is not aS easy to understand the implied system of selection. Charles Augustus Andersen, for instance, makes the fol- lowing subtle distinction in his choice of hearers: Come all ye human countrymen, with pity lend an ear. "Van Dieman's Land," which I have presented in an earlier chapter, is a ballad of the adventures and priva- tions of three convicts, and yet it exhibits the most meticu- lous care in its selection of a "fit audience though few." It jegms with the mvitation. Come aU ye men of learning, and rambling boys beware. and then proceeds to inculcate a proper frame of mind in the learned listoiers: leo |l Types of C 'jbixnt Ballads It's when you go a hunting take your dog> your gun, your snare. Think on lofty hills and mountains that are at your com- mand. And think of the tedious journey going to Van Dieman's Land. An equally snobbish point of view is adopted in the bal- lad of "Jack Donahue," which excludes from the circle of listeners all but a narrow and hi^^y specialized dass: Come all you gallant bushrangers and outlaws of disdain Who scorn to dwell in slavery and wear the Ixmds of chains. Attention pay to what I say and value it if you do. I will relate tibe matchless fate of bold Jack Donahue. The "Come-all-ye's" are almost infinite in number and variety, but I have now discussed a sufficient number to give some idea of the generic character indicated by the designation which includes than alL And here, I think, my rude attempt at a classification must end, since I have discussed all the traits which are responsible for important groupings in the ballads of my collection. It would be possible, of course, to proceed w'ii a series of narrower groups, but many of the ballads here would have to be in- cluded also in some of the division? already given. And there would stiU remain a list of English and Scottish bal- lads on such a varied list of topics that to do them justice I should have to discuss each of them in turn. The one th^t I shall now cite, in order to drive home a last impres- sion of the difficulty Ox categoriasing, is only a trifle more individual in its character tlum many others which I have had to leave unrepvesoited. 161 I'] ir m HI ^4? ' 1 I i i '■V I I The Qxtxst or the Bjillad can you love little, O can you love long? Can you love an old sweetheart till the new comes on? Can you tell them you love them their minds for to ease? And when their backs is turned to you, you can do as you please. Yes, I can love little, I can love long. 1 can love an old sweetheart till the new comes on. I can tell them I love them their minds for to ease. And when their backs is turned to me, I can do as I please. As I was a walking one morning in spring To hear the birds whistle and the nightingales sing I saw a pretty fair maid. She's the one I adore. I'll be her own true love on the New River Shore. It's when my love's parents they came for to hear, They pressed me away from my dearest dear. They sent me away where loud cannons did roar, And left her lamenting on the New River Shore. It was three months after a letter she sent • Come back, my dearest Jimmie, you're the kd I adore. And straight I'll go with you from the New River Shore. I picked up my broadsword. It glittered all round. A short time after laid seven to the ground. Some bleeding, some dying, some wounded full sore, I gained my own true love on the New River Shore. O hard is the fate of all women kind. They're always controUed, they're always confined. Controlled by their parents until they're married wives. Then slaves to their husbands all the rest of their lives. 168 ;.'^l' Tm or CuBUNT Ballads In th^ opening stanzas of this Tenstile ballad we get the sinister suggestion that some forlorn maid is about to be kft mourning the recreancy of her gay and faithless lover; andif this were the case we could place it, along with "the Butcher Boy," and a few others, under some such heading as Ballads of Forsaken Maids. But next we proceed to the forced separation of two lovers and then to their happy reunion at the apparently trifling expense of a few skin and wounded comrades— or enemies. This furnishes noth- ing more definite than the heading. Separation and Re- union of Lovers. And finally we take leave of the situa- tion, whatever it may be, with a last haunting reflection V- u the miseries ot oppressed maidens, and with the add- tw i/ittemess of discovering that their sUte is not relieved even by marriage. This superadded motive in the last line is the one which, at least, characterized the ballad in the opinion of the per- son who aided me in preserving it I had been engaged for hours in coaxing one ballad after another from an ancient and obstinate W- wko insisted that in spite of my apparent honesty I w ^^ ing to have a vast deal of fun at her expense, i^. i i ^ stoutly averred, moreover, that she did not know any ballads now, no matter what might be proved concerning her past life. At the close of one of her recitations, when she setUed back with the usual declaration that she had come to the end of her tether at last, her daughter good-naturedly came to my aid. The latter, a fine buxom matron, repeated the last stanza of "The New River Shore," and bade her mother "go ahead with that," at the same time observing, as she folded her muscular arms and looked benignly upon her small and palpably uxorious husband in the chimney-comer, "Ye i«s If |r)i.l Thz Quest of the Ballad may depend I'll never forget that vene. I've got blame good reasons for rememberin' that to me sorrow." In the absence, then, of any undisputed evidence in favor of either of the captions given above we might as well fall in with the suggestion of my jocular friend, who, if she had been a pedantic person with classifying tendencies, would have placed "The Xew River Shore" under the capti ^M.i > 1 U li ^ I. S : --' I V Ij' ^' ' , ■J. The Quest of the Baixad wife are thus described by one singer in their brief hour of felicity: So they tossed and tumbled all that night. and by another singer thus: So they hustled and they tumbled till they both fell asleep. In describing an incident of this sort any singer, under the influence of embarrassment or of unctuosity, as the case may be, will unconsciously employ the euphemisms that he is most accustomed to. And even easier to explain is the variation in the injured husband's response to Little Matha's protest that he is unprepared to fight for his life against an antagonist who has "two bright swords by his side." In one version the answer is: If I have two bright swords by my side They cost me deep in purse. And you shall have the best olF them. And I shall have the worst. And you shaU have the very first blow. And I shall have the other. What more, then, could I do for you If you were my own bom brother? and in another the two stanzas are fused into one in the following wise: You shall have the very best one. And I shall have the worst. And you shall have the very first blow. And I shall have the next, les The Inconstancy of the Ballad This fusion is probably the result of a defective recollec- tion of the complete answer combined with a very clear recollection of the gist of the answer, which results in an unconscious bringing together of the main points in the chivahrous response of the husband. I have hunted down five diflFerent persons who were able to sing this noble old baUad in some fashion, and the five versions are teeming with variations of this sort, more or less capable of explanation. It is interesting, then, to see the unanimity of all these versions in retaining an earlier variation which had the eflFect of completely ruining the rhyme of the stanza in which it appeared. This stanza oc- curs about the beginning of the baUad, and describes the appearance of tiie richly-arrayed persons who were com- ing to church "the holy word to hear." In the older version of the ballad which appears in Child's coDection the stanza runs thus: The one of them was clad in green, Another was clad in pall. And then came in my Lord Bernard's wife. The fairest amongst them all. and in all the versions that I have heard the stanza takes this fonn: Some came in in diamonds of gold. And some came in in pearls. And among them all was little Matha Grove, The handsomest of them all. ^^ The interesting change, of course, is from "pall" to "pearls." The "diamonds of gold" would come in natur- ally enough to accompany the pearls and to supplant the 160 f / ': The Quest of the Ballad green, and the substitution of Little Hatha Grove for Lord Bernard's wife is only one of scores of examples of fast-and-loose playing with proper names in the ballads. But the change from "pall" to "pearls" is the change from an unknown to a known word — a purchase of reason at a ruinous expense of rhyme. Lacking the omniscience to report exactly how the change came about, one may shrewdly surmise that it was never definitely or consciously made, but that, in an age that knew not "pall" except as a sombre burden to be borne decorously to the grave, the more richly suggestive "pearls" came creeping in during the night to find themselves securely established in the mommg and ready to proceed to church on their hypo- critical mission "the holy word to hear." An equally heroic sacrifice of rhyme in the cause of reason appears in the modem version of "Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor" as I found it in Nova Scotia. Every- body who knows the tragic tale in the old ballad wiU re- member how the "brown girl," when she is eclipsed at her own wedding by her beautiful rival Fair Ellinor, draws her "little penknife" and stabs Ellinor to the heart. In the old version in Child's collection Ellinor is thus ad- dressed by Lord Thomas after she has received her death wound: f ( "Oh Christ now save thee," Lord Thomas he said, "Methinks thou look'st wondrous wan; Thou wast used for to look with as fresh a colour As ever the sun shin'd on." and in the Nova Scotia version the stanza runs: Ji ITO The Inconstancy of th£ Ballad "Ob what is the matter?" Lord Thomas he said, "I think you look wonderful pale; You used to have as bright a colour As ever the sun shone on." Another demonstration of the fact that the word "wan" has ceased to be a popular descriptive epithet appears in my Nova Scotia version of "The Douglas Tragedy." Lord William has slain, one by one, the seven brethroi and the father of Lady Margret. Then the two lovers proceed on their elopement, or, as the old version in Child nar- rates it, O they rode on, and on they rode. And a' by the li^t of the moon. Until they came to yon wan water. And there they lighted down. This stanza is thus varied in the Nova Scotia versicm: 'Twas on the road, 'twas away they rode, 'Twas all by the light of the moon. Until they came to the Erint waters, That was raging like the main.^ 1 In the Scotch balUd "May Collin" (Version H of "Lady Isabd and the Elf Knight" in ChUd's coUection) the foUowing stansa narrates the Joomef of May and her falae lover to the river-side i They had not ridden a mile, a mile, A mile but barely three, Till they came to a rank river. Was raging like the sea. Tills stansa, to be sure, does not appear in the verrions of the ballad wUdi I have found In Nova Scotia, under the title "Pretty Pol^." It did appear, however, in some older versimis In Scotland, and, very probably, in smne of the Nova Scotia versions as well; and one may conjecture that, either In Scot- land or in Nova Scotia, it influenced "The Sieven Brethren" to the eztoit of bringing alwut the variation In the fourth line of this stansa. 171 if U'\ .; I,! n ill :'ii^ : f ■:; The Quest of the Ballad "The Douglas Tragedy," or "The Seven Brethren" as LangilleofTatamagouche. When we reached this stanza ?^l ^^^T."/ *^^ hand-paralyzing process of copying out the baUad I paused to light my pipe, Bob thankfully followed suit, and in the millennial atmosphere of pea » { ' »' ) ' I Mi The Quxst ov thx Ballad Here is riiyme with a vengeance. In the enthunaim aroused by this example and the one cited just before it I am almost tempted to proceed to the unscientific gener- alization that ballad-singers will gladly sacrifice upd with the phraseology of the ballads which they were committing to p.-int were infringing upon a rule which to every singer of the folk is sacred and in- violable. The ballad collectors of the old school had little hesita- tion about "improving" and "polishmg" the phraseology of any ballad which they had found and were about to commit to print, and nowadays every puny whipster is ready to castigate their shadows for this sacrilege. The old collectors, as a matter of fact, were guilty only of a f aUure to appreciate the true nature and worth of folk- lore, and in our own days of enlightenmoit we are guilty of a misapprehension ahnost equally great. I myself have heard collectors speak of one special version of a ballad as being "the correct version" and of other versions equaUy popular as being "incorrect" ; and a fairly common method with conscientious collectors is to persuade a singer to go over a ballad again and again until finally the so-called "correct" form is beaten out. This, to be sure, is an inter- esting experiment to perform both with the singer and with the ballad, if the singer is an amenable person, which is not invariably the case; but the scientific purpose of the experiment should be to discover how many variations this particular singer will employ in singing this particular ballad, and not to arrive at a falsely hypothesized "cor- rect" form. Here, for instance, are two slightly varied forms of a stanza from "Lord Thomas and Fair EUinor." They appeared, respectively, in the first and second ren- ditions of the ballad from one singer. \ h 1T0 1= H 1-: \ and. Th3 Quest or thx Ballad He took her by the lily-white hand And led her through the hall. He set her cm a golden chair Anumg the ladies alL He took her by the lily-white hand And led her through them all, He set her (m a golden chair Among the ladies all. Two stanzas before this one occurs the description of Fair EUinor as she went with her merry maids to the ill- fated wedding of Lord Thomas. The singer to whom I have just alluded is Lucy Langille of Marshville, and she thus worded the description when she first ^mg the ballad tome: She dressed herself in riches so gay. Her merry maids all in blue. And every town that she passed through They took her to be a queen. As I was copying the stanza down I asked rather ill- advisedly, "Are you sure she dressed them in blue and not in green?" "Yes," said Lucy, " 'blue* is right. Ye can see it rhymes with 'through.' " I made no further objec- tion, but when I persuaded her to sing the ballad for me a second time, she delivered the stanza, without any hesi- tation, thus: She dressed herself in riches so gay, Her merry maids all in green, And every town that she passed by They took her to be a queen. ISO 'H ■ The iMCONtTANCT OF THX BaLLAO Tlie one thing that I felt podtire of at the time wm that there wu no deliberate change made, but lince I played a part in bringing thi« particular chauge about I ctn not, ai an hooert collector, um it without explanation in any version of the ballad which I preient The varia- tiop It m iti wav, however, an interettiog and character- irticone. It has ^xi exact parallel in the two varianta of a rtanaa in "Lord Bateman." Thii baUad, it may be re- membered, wai sung to me, on two different occadons, by Sandy and Dave Rogers respectively, and they had both leaned it in bygone days from their common father. Sandy thus portrayed the prompt action of Lord Bateman upon receipt of the tidings that his Turkish lady has ar- rived at the palace: He stamped his foot all on the floor. He broke the Uble in pieces four. Saying, "Adieu, adieu to my new wedded bride, For this fair maid I'll go and see." while Dave reported the action thus: He stamped his foot upon the floor. He broke the table in pieces three, Saying, "Adieu, adieu to my new wedded bride, For this fair lady I'll go and see." In this case, of course, one has a perfect right to prefer Dave 8 stanza to Sandy's, since the latter is obviously a corruption caused by Sandy's instinctive eagerness in reachmg for the immediate rhyme instead of waitinir cahnly for the ultimate one which is in hannony with tite 181 I ( : • JIM hf: f/lr M ■i, The Quest of the Ballad neighboring stanzas; and the same principle of selection could be applied to my preceding example from "Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor" if my own artificial influence had not helped to produce the variation. But one rarely has the opportunity to be as definite as this in comparing variant words or phrases. Mutations are likely to appear in a ballad during the process of repeated singing by one person, they are certain to appear in great variety and profusion in a ballad that is Lhe com- mon property of several persons, and to select from this interesting confusion one form which shall be labelled "cor- rect" is to remove from the term "ballad" its qualifying epithet "popular." The singers themselves are always ex- tremely anxious to be correct, and every variation wuich they unconsciously introduce is of importance if one is to accept the ballad as a "popular" possession. I have shown something of the nature of this confusion as it appears in many of the ballads that I have mentioned in this chapter, but I should like to examine some one bal- lad rather more consistently from this point of view. The most extreme example that I could select from my own ooUection would be "Little Musgrave," or "Little Matha Grove." This was simg to me by five different perscms, and each of the five consequent versions has its own strik- ing peculiarities. But a fairer illu: "it's plain to be seen that I sung the verse ri^t for ye. Fair MacC