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diff --git a/36222-8.txt b/36222-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff60e81 --- /dev/null +++ b/36222-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13243 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Essays in the Study of Folk-Songs (1886), by +Countess Evelyn Martinengo-Cesaresco + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Essays in the Study of Folk-Songs (1886) + +Author: Countess Evelyn Martinengo-Cesaresco + +Release Date: May 26, 2011 [EBook #36222] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS IN THE STUDY OF *** + + + + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + Will no one tell me what she sings? + Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow + For old, unhappy, far-off things, + And battles long ago: + Or is it some more humble lay, + Familiar matter of to-day? + Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, + That has been, and may be again! + + W. WORDSWORTH. + + + + + ESSAYS IN THE + STUDY OF FOLK-SONGS. + + + BY THE + COUNTESS EVELYN MARTINENGO-CESARESCO. + + LONDON: + GEORGE REDWAY, + YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. + MDCCCLXXXVI. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + INTRODUCTION ix + + THE INSPIRATION OF DEATH IN FOLK-POETRY 1 + + NATURE IN FOLK-SONGS 30 + + ARMENIAN FOLK-SONGS 53 + + VENETIAN FOLK-SONGS 89 + + SICILIAN FOLK-SONGS 122 + + GREEK SONGS OF CALABRIA 152 + + FOLK-SONGS OF PROVENCE 177 + + THE WHITE PATERNOSTER 203 + + THE DIFFUSION OF BALLADS 214 + + SONGS FOR THE RITE OF MAY 249 + + THE IDEA OF FATE IN SOUTHERN TRADITIONS 270 + + FOLK-LULLABIES 299 + + FOLK-DIRGES 354 + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + + Wo man singt da lass dich ruhig nieder, + Böse Menschen haben keine Lieder. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +It is on record that Wilhelm Mannhardt, the eminent writer on +mythology and folk-lore, was once taken for a gnome by a peasant he +had been questioning. His personal appearance may have helped the +illusion; he was small and irregularly made, and was then only just +emerging from a sickly childhood spent beside the Baltic in dreaming +over the creations of popular fancy. Then, too, he wore a little red +cap, which was doubtless fraught with supernatural suggestions. But +above all, the story proves that Mannhardt had solved the difficulty +of dealing with primitive folk; that instead of being looked upon as +a profane and prying layman, he was regarded as one who was more than +initiated into the mysteries--as one who was a mystery himself. And +for this reason I recall it here. It exactly indicates the way to +set about seeking after old lore. We ought to shake off as much as +possible of our conventional civilization which frightens uneducated +peasants, and makes them think, at best, that we wish to turn them +into ridicule. If we must not hope to pass for spirits of earth or +air, we can aim at inspiring such a measure of confidence as will +persuade the natural man to tell us what he still knows of those +vanishing beings, and to lend us the key to his general treasure-box +before all that is inside be reduced to dust. + +This, which applies directly to the collector at first hand, has also +its application for the student who would profit by the materials when +collected. He should approach popular songs and traditions from some +other stand-point than that of mere criticism; and divesting himself +of preconcerted ideas, he should try to live the life and think the +thoughts of people whose only literature is that which they carry +in their heads, and in whom Imagination takes the place of acquired +knowledge. + + +I. + +Research into popular traditions has now reached a stage at which +the English Folk-Lore Society have found it desirable to attempt a +classification of its different branches, and in future, students +will perhaps devote their labours to one or another of these branches +rather than to the subject as a whole. Certain of the sections thus +mapped out have plainly more special attractions for a particular +class of workers: beliefs and superstitions chiefly concern those who +study comparative mythology; customs are of peculiar importance to the +sociologist, and so on. But tales and songs, while offering points of +interest to scientific specialists, appeal also to a much wider class, +namely, to all who care at all for literature. For the Folk-tale is +the father of all fiction, and the Folk-song is the mother of all +poetry. + +Mankind may be divided into the half which listens and the half which +reads. For the first category in its former completeness, we must +go now to the East; in Europe only the poor, and of them a rapidly +decreasing proportion, have the memory to recite, the patience to +hear, the faith to receive. It was not always or primarily an +affair of classes: down even to a comparatively late day, the pure +story-teller was a popular member of society in provincial France +and Italy, and perhaps society was as well employed in listening to +wonder-tales as it is at present. But there is no going back. +The epitaph for the old order of things was written by the great +philosopher who threw the last shovel of earth on its grave: + + O l'heureux temps que celui de ces fables + Des bons démons, des esprits familiers, + Des farfadets, aux mortels secourables! + On écoutait tous ces faits admirables + Dans son château, près d'un large foyer: + Le père et l'oncle, et la mère et la fille, + Et les voisins, et toute la famille, + Ouvraient l'oreille à Monsieur l'aumônier, + Qui leur fesait des contes de sorcier. + On a banni les démons et les fées; + Sous la raison les grâces etouffées, + Livrent nous c[oe]urs à l'insipidité; + Le raisonner tristement s'accrédite; + On court, hélas! après la verité, + Ah! croyez-moi, l'erreur a son mérite.[1] + +Folk-songs differ from folk-tales by the fact of their making a more +emphatic claim to credibility. Prose is allowed to be more fanciful, +more frivolous than poetry. It deals with the brighter side; the hero +and heroine in the folk-tale marry and live happily ever after; in the +popular ballad they are but rarely united save in death. To the blithe +supernaturalism of elves and fairies, the folk-poet prefers the solemn +supernaturalism of ghost-lore. + +The folk-song probably preceded the folk-tale. If we are to judge +either by early record or by the analogy of backward peoples, it seems +proved that in infant communities anything that was thought worth +remembering was sung. It must have been soon ascertained that words +rhythmically arranged take, as a rule, firmer root than prose. "As +I do not know how to read," says a modern Greek folk-singer, "I have +made this story into a song so as not to forget it." + +Popular poetry is the reflection of moments of strong collective or +individual emotion. The springs of legend and poetry issue from the +deepest wells of national life; the very heart of a people is laid +bare in its sagas and songs. There have been times when a profound +feeling of race or patriotism has sufficed to turn a whole nation into +poets: this happened at the expulsion of the Moors from Spain, the +struggle for the Stuarts in Scotland, for independence in Greece. It +seems likely that all popular epics were born of some such concordant +thrill of emotion. The saying of "a very wise man" reported by Andrew +Fletcher of Saltoun, to the effect that if one were permitted to make +all the ballads, he need not care who made the laws, must be taken +with this reservation: the ballad-maker only wields his power for as +long as he is the true interpreter of the popular will. Laws may be +imposed on the unwilling, but not songs. + +The Brothers Grimm said that they had not found a single lie in +folk-poetry. "The special value," wrote Goethe, "of what we call +national songs and ballads, is that their inspiration comes fresh +from nature: they are never got up, they flow from a sure spring." He +added, what must continually strike anyone who is brought in contact +with a primitive peasantry, "The unsophisticated man is more the +master of direct, effective expression in few words than he who has +received a regular literary education." + +Bards chaunted the praises of head-men and heroes, and it may be +guessed that almost as soon and as universally as tribes and races +fell out, it grew to be the custom for each fighting chief to have +one or more bards in his personal service. Robert Wace describes how +William the Conqueror was followed by Taillefer, who + + Mounted on steed that was swift of foot, + Went forth before the armed train + Singing of Roland and Charlemain, + Of Olivere, and the brave vassals + Who died at the Pass of Roncesvals. + +The northern skalds accompanied the armies to the wars and were +present at all the battles. "Ye shall be here that ye may see with +your own eyes what is achieved this day," said King Olaf to his skalds +on the eve of the Battle of Stiklastad (1030), "and have no occasion, +when ye shall afterwards celebrate these actions in song, to depend on +the reports of others." In the same fight, a skald named Jhormod died +an honourable death, shot with an arrow while in the act of singing. +The early Keltic poets were forbidden to bear arms: a reminiscence of +their sacerdotal status, but they, too, looked on while others fought, +and encouraged the combatants with their songs. All these bards served +a higher purpose than the commemoration of individual leaders: they +became the historians of their epoch. The profession was one of +recognised eminence, and numbered kings among its adepts. Then it +declined with the rise of written chronicles, till the last bard +disappeared and only the ballad-singer remained. + + +II. + +This personage, though shorn of bardic dignity, yet contrived to hold +his own with considerable success. In Provence and Germany, itinerant +minstrels who sang for pay brought up the rank and file of the +troubadours and minnesingers; in England and Italy and Northern +France they formed a class apart, which, as times went, was neither +ill-esteemed nor ill-paid. When the minstrel found no better audience +he mounted a barrel in the nearest tavern, or + + At country wakes sung ballads from a cart. + +But his favourite sphere was the baronial hall; and to understand how +welcome he was there made, it is only needful to picture country life +in days when books were few and newspapers did not exist. He sang +before noble knights and gracious dames, who, to us--could we be +suddenly brought into their presence--would seem rough in their +manner, their speech, their modes of life; but who were far from being +dead or insensible to intellectual pleasure when they could get it. He +sang the choicest songs that had come down to him from an earlier age; +songs of the Round Table and of the great Charles; and then, as he +sat at meat, perhaps below the salt, but with his plate well heaped up +with the best that there was, he heard strange Eastern tales from +the newly-arrived pilgrim at his right hand, and many a wild story of +noble love or hate from the white-haired retainer at his left. + +I have always thought that the old ballad-singer's world--the world in +which he moved, and again the ideal world of his songs--is nowhere to +be so vividly realised as in the Hofkirche at Innsbruck, among that +colossal company who watch the tomb of Kaiser Max; huge men and women +in richly wrought bronze array, ugly indeed, most of them, but with +two of their number seeming to embody every beautiful quality that was +possessed or dreamt of through well nigh a millennium: the pensive, +graceful form of Theodoric, king of the Ostrogoths, and the erect +figure whose very attitude suggests all manly worth, all gentle +valour, under which is read the quaint device, "Arthur _von England_." + +If not rewarded with sufficient promptitude and liberality, the +ballad-singer was not slow to call attention to the fact. Colin Muset, +a jongleur who practised his trade in Lorraine and Champagne in the +thirteenth century, has left a charming photograph of contemporary +manners in a song which sets forth his wants and deserts. + + Lord Count, I have the viol played[2] + Before yourself, within your hall, + And you my service never paid + Nor gave me any wage at all; + 'T was villany: + + By faith I to Saint Mary owe, + Upon such terms I serve you not, + My alms-bag sinks exceeding low, + My trunk ill-furnished is, I wot. + + Lord Count, now let me understand, + What 'tis you mean to do for me, + If with free heart and open hand + Some ample guerdon you decree + Through courtesy; + For much I wish, you need not doubt, + In my own household to return, + And if full purse I am without, + Small greeting from my wife I earn. + + "Sir Engelé," I hear her say, + "In what poor country have you been, + That through the city all the day + You nothing have contrived to glean! + See how your wallet folds and bends, + Well stuffed with wind and nought beside; + Accursed is he who e'er intends + As your companion to abide." + + When reached the house wherein I dwell, + And that my wife can clearly spy + My bag behind me bulge and swell, + And I myself clad handsomely + In a grey gown, + Know that she quickly throws away + Her distaff, nor of work doth reck, + She greets me laughing, kind and gay, + And twines both arms around my neck. + + My wife soon seizes on my bag, + And empties it without delay; + My boy begins to groom my nag, + And hastes to give him drink and hay; + My maid meanwhile runs off to kill + Two capons, dressing them with skill + In garlic sauce; + + My daughter in her hand doth bear, + Kind girl, a comb to smooth my hair. + Then in my house I am a king, + Great joyance and no sorrowing, + Happier than you can say or sing. + +Ballad-singing suffered by the invention of printing, but it was in +England that the professional minstrel met with the cruellest blow of +all--the statute passed in the reign of Queen Elizabeth which forbade +his recitations, and classed him with "rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy +beggars." + + "Beggars they are with one consent, + And rogues by Act of Parliament." + +On the other hand, it was also in England that the romantic ballad had +its revival, and was introduced to an entirely new phase of existence. +The publication of the _Percy Reliques_ (1765) started the modern +period in which popular ballads were not only to be accepted as +literature, but were to exercise the strongest influence on lettered +poets from Goethe and Scott, down to Dante Rossetti. + +Not that popular poetry had ever been without its intelligent +admirers, here and there, among men of culture: Montaigne had said +of it, "La poësie populere et purement naturelle a des naïfvetez et +graces par où elle se compare à la principale beauté de la poësie +parfaicte selon l'art: comme il se voit es villanelles de Gascouigne +et aus chançons qu'on nous raporte des nations qui n'ont conoissance +d'acune science, ny mesme d'escripture." There were even ardent +collectors, like Samuel Pepys, who is said to have acquired copies of +two thousand ballads.[3] Still, till after the appearance of Bishop +Percy's book (as his own many faults of omission and commission +attest), the literary class at large did not take folk-songs quite +seriously. The _Percy Reliques_ was followed by Herder's _Volkslieder_ +(1782), Scott's _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_ (1802), Fauriel's +_Chansons Populaires de la Grêce_ (1824), to mention only three of its +more immediate successors. The "return to Nature" in poetry became an +irresistible movement; the world, tired of the classical forms of +the eighteenth century, listened as gladly to the fresh voice of +the popular muse, as in his father's dreary palace Giacomo Leopardi +listened to the voice of the peasant girl over the way, who sang as +she plied the shuttle: + + Sonavan le quiete + Stanze, e le vie dintorno. + Al tuo perpetuo canto, + Allor che all opre femminili intenta + Sedevi, assai contenta + Di quel vago avvenir che in mente avevi. + Era il Maggio odoroso: e tu solevi + Così menare il giorno. + + * * * * * + + Lingua mortal non dice + Quel ch' io sentiva in seno. + +The hunt for ballads led the way to the search for every sort +of popular song, and with what zeal that search has since been +prosecuted, the splendid results in the hands of the public now +testify. + + +III. + +A brief glance must be taken at what may be called domestic +folk-poetry. In a remote past, rural people found delight or +consolation in singing the events of their obscure lives, or in +deputing other persons of their own station, but especially skilled +in the art, to sing them for them. Thus there were marriage-songs and +funeral-songs, labour-songs and songs for the culminating points of +the pastoral or agricultural year. It is beyond my present purpose to +speak of the vintage festivals, and of the literary consequences of +the cult of Dionysus. I will, instead, pause for a moment to consider +the ancient harvest-songs. Among the Greeks, particularly in Phrygia +and in Sicily, all harvest-songs bore the generic name of Lytierses, +and how they got it, gives an instructive instance of myth-facture. +Lytierses was the son of King Midas, and a king himself, but also a +mighty reaper, whose habit it was to indulge in trials of strength +with his companions, and with strangers who were passing by. He tied +the vanquished up in sheaves and beat them. One day he defied an +unknown stranger, who proved too strong for him, and by whom he was +slain. So died Lytierses, the reaper, and the first "Lytierses," or +harvest-song, was composed to console his father, King Midas, for his +loss. + +Now, if we regard Lytierses as the typical agriculturist, and his +antagonist as the growth or vegetation genius, the fable seems to read +thus: Between man and Nature there is a continual struggle; man is +often victorious, but, if too presumptuous, a time comes when he must +yield. In harvest customs continued to this day, a struggle with or +for the last sheaf forms a common feature. The reapers of Western +France tie the sheaf, adorned with flowers, to a post driven strongly +into the ground, then they fetch the farmer and his wife and all the +farm folk to help in dragging it loose, and when the fastenings break, +it is borne off in triumph. So popular is this _Fête de la Gerbe_, +that, during the Chouan war, the leaders had to allow their peasant +soldiers to return to their villages to attend it, or they would have +deserted in a body. It may not be irrelevant to add that in Brittany +the great wrestling matches take place at the _fête_ of the "new +threshing floor," when all the neighbours are invited to unite in +preparing it for the corn. In North Germany, where the peasants still +believe that the last sheaf contains the growth-genius, they set it in +honour on the festive board, and serve it double portions of cake +and ale.[4] Thus appeased, it becomes a friend to the cultivator. The +harvest "man" or "tree" which used to be made by English reapers +at the end of the harvest, and presented to master and mistress, +obviously belonged to the same family. + +We have one or two of the ancient Lytierses in what is most likely +very nearly their original and popular form. One, composed of +distiches telling the story of Midas' son, is preserved in a tragedy +by Sosibius, the Syracusian poet. The following, more general in +subject, I take from the tenth Idyl of Theocritus:-- + + Come now hearken awhile to the songs of the god Lytierses. + + Demeter, granter of fruits, many sheaves vouchsafe to the cornfield, + Aye to be skilfully tilled, and reaped, and the harvest abundant. + + Fasten the heaps, ye binders of sheaves, lest any one passing, + Call out, "worthless clowns, you earn no part of your wages." + + Let every sheaf that the sickle has cut be turned to the north wind + Or to the west exposed, for so will the corn grow fatter. + + Ye who of wheat are threshers, beware how ye slumber at mid-day, + Then is the chaff from the stalk of the wheat, most easily parted. + + Reapers, to labour begin, as soon as the lark upriseth, + And when he sleeps, leave off, yet rest when the sun overpowers. + + Blest, O youths, is the life of a frog, for he never is anxious + Who is to pour him his drink, for he always has plenty. + + Better at once, O miserly steward, to boil our lentils; + Mind you don't cut your fingers in trying to chop them to atoms. + + These are the songs for the toilers to sing in the heat of the harvest. + +Most modern harvest songs manage, like that of Theocritus, to convey +some hint of thirst or hunger. "Be merry, O comrades!" sing the +girl reapers of Casteignano dei Greci, a Greek settlement in Terra +d'Otranto, "Be merry, and go not on your way so downcast; I saw things +you cannot see; I saw the housewife kneading dough, or preparing +macaroni; and she does it for us to eat, so that we may work like +lions at the harvest, and rejoice the heart of the husbandman." This +may be a statement of fact or a suggestion of what ought to be a fact. +Other songs, sung exclusively at the harvest, bear no outward sign of +connection with it; and the reason of their use on that occasion is +hopelessly lost. + + +IV. + +I pass on to the old curiosity shop of popular traditions--the +nursery. Children, with their innate conservatism, have stored a +vast assemblage of odds and ends which fascinate by their very +incompleteness. Religion, mythology, history, physical science, +or what stood for it; the East, the North--those great banks of +ideas--have been impartially drawn on by the infant folk-lorists +at their nurses' knees. Children in the four quarters of the globe, +repeat the same magic formulæ; words which to every grown person seem +devoid of sense, have a universality denied to any articles of faith. +What, for example, is the meaning of the play with the snail? Why is +he so persistently asked to put his horns out? Pages might be filled +with the variants of the well-known invocation which has currency from +Rome to Pekin. + +English: + +I. + + Snail, snail, put out your horn, + Or I'll kill your father and mother the morn. + + 2. + + Snail, snail, come out of your hole, + Or else I'll beat you as black as a coal. + + 3. + + Snail, snail, put out your horn, + Tell me what's the day t'morn: + To-day's the morn to shear the corn, + Blaw bil buck thorn. + + 4. + + Snail, snail, shoot out your horn, + Father and mother are dead; + Brother and sister are in the back-yard + Begging for barley bread. + +Scotch: + + Snail, snail, shoot out your horn, + And tell us it will be a bonnie day, the morn. + +German: + + 1. + + Schneckhûs, Peckhüs, + Stäk du dîn ver Horner rût, + Süst schmût ick dî in'n Graven, + Da freten dî de Raven. + + 2. + + Tækeltuet, + Kruep uet dyn hues, + Dyn hues dat brennt, + Dyn Kinder de flennt: + Dyn Fru de ligt in Wäken: + Kann 'k dy nich mael spräken? + Tækeltuet, u. s. w. + + 3. + + Snaek, snaek, komm herduet, + Sunst tobräk ik dy dyn Hues. + + 4. + + Slingemues, + Kruep uet dyn Hues, + Stick all dyn veer Höern uet, + Wullt du 's neck uetstäken, + Wik ik dyn Hues tobräken. + Slingemues, u. s. w. + + 5. + Kuckuch, kuckuck Gerderut, + Stäk dîne vêr Horns herut. + +French: + + Colimaçon borgne! + Montre-moi tes cornes; + Je te dirai où ta mère est morte, + Elle est morte à Paris, à Rouen, + Où l'on sonne les cloches. + Bi, bim, bom, + Bi, bim, bom, + Bi, bim, bom. + +Tuscan: + + Chiocciola, chiocciola, vien da me, + Ti darò i' pan d' i' re; + E dell'ova affrittellate + Corni secchí e brucherate. + +Roumanian: + + Culbecu, culbecu, + Scóte corne boeresci + Si te du la Dunare + Si bé apa tulbure. + +Russian: + + Ulitka, ulitka, + Vypusti roga, + Ya tebé dam piroga.[5] + +Chinese: + + Snail, snail, come here to be fed, + Put out your horns and lift up your head; + Father and mother will give you to eat, + Good boiled mutton shall be your meat. + +Several lines in the second German version are evidently borrowed from +the Ladybird or Maychafer rhyme which has been pronounced a relic of +Freya worship. Here the question arises, is not the snail song also +derived from some ancient myth? Count Gubernatis, in his valuable work +on _Zoological Mythology_ (vol. ii. p. 75), dismisses the matter +with the remark that "the snail of superstition is demoniacal." This, +however, is no proof that he always bore so suspicious a character, +since all the accessories to past beliefs got into bad odour on the +establishment of Christianity, unless saved by dedication to the +Virgin or other saints. I ventured to suggest, in the _Archivio per lo +studio delle tradizioni popolari_ (the Italian Folklore Journal), +that the snail who is so constantly urged to come forth from his dark +house, might in some way prefigure the dawn. Horns have been from all +antiquity associated with rays of light. But to write of "Nature Myths +in Nursery Rhymes" is to enter on such dangerous ground that I will +pursue the argument no further. + + +V. + +Children of older years have preserved the very important class +of songs distinguished as singing-games. Everyone knows the famous +_ronde_ of the Pont d'Avignon: + + Sur le Pont d'Avignon, + Tout le monde y danse, danse, + Sur le Pont d'Avignon + Tout le monde y danse en rond. + + Les beaux messieurs font comme ça, + Sur le Pont d'Avignon, + Tout le monde y danse, danse, + Sur le Pont d'Avignon, + Tout le monde y danse en rond. + +After the "messieurs" who bow, come the "demoiselles" who curtsey; the +workwomen who sew, the carpenters who saw wood, the washerwomen +who wash linen, and a host of other folks intent on their different +callings. The song is an apt demonstration of what Paul de +Saint-Victor called "cet instinct inné de l'imitation qui fait similer +à l'enfant les actions viriles"[6]--in which instinct lies the germ of +the theatre. The origin of all spectacles was a performance +intended to amuse the performers, and it cannot be doubted that +the singing-game throws much light on the beginnings of scenic +representations. + +_Rondes_ frequently deal with love and marriage, and these, from +internal evidence, cannot have been composed by or for the young +people who now play them. There are in fact some which would be better +forgotten by everybody, but the majority are innocent little dramas, +of which it may truly be said, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_. It should +be noticed that a distinctly satirical vein runs through many of +these games, as in the "Gentleman from Spain,"--played in one form or +another all over Europe and the United States,--in which the suitor +would first give any money to get his bride, and then any money to +get rid of her. Or the Swedish _Lek_ (the name given in Sweden to +the singing-game), in which the companions of a young girl put her +sentiments to the test of telling her that father, mother, +sisters, brothers, are dead--all of which she hears with perfect +equanimity--but when they add that her betrothed is also dead, she +falls back fainting. Then all her kindred are resuscitated without the +effect of reviving her, but when she hears that her lover is alive and +well, she springs up and gives chase to her tormentors. + +To my mind there is no more remarkable specimen of the singing game +than _Jenny Jones_--through which prosaic title we can discern the +tender _Jeanne ma joie_ that formed the base of it. The Scotch still +say _Jenny Jo_, "Jo" being with them a term of endearment (_e.g._, +"John Anderson, my Jo!"). The following variant of the game I took +down from word of mouth at Bocking in Essex:-- + + We've come to see Jenny Jones, Jenny Jones, (_repeat_). + How is she now? + + Jenny is washing, washing, washing, + Jenny is washing, you can't see her now. + + We've come to see Jenny Jones. + How is she now? + + Jenny is folding, folding, folding, + You can't see her now. + + We've come to see Jenny Jones. + How is she now? + + Jenny is starching, starching, starching, + Jenny is starching, you can't see her now. + + We've come to see Jenny Jones. + How is she now? + + Jenny is ironing, ironing, ironing, + Jenny is ironing, you can't see her now. + + We've come to see Jenny Jones. + How is she now? + + Jenny is ill, ill, ill, + Jenny is ill, so you can't see her now. + + We've come to see Jenny Jones. + How is she now? + + (_Mournfully._) + Jenny is dead, dead, dead, + Jenny is dead, you can't see her now. + + May we come to the funeral? + Yes. + + May we come in red? + Red is for soldiers; you can't come in red. + + May we come in blue? + Blue is for sailors; you can't come in blue. + + May we come in white? + White is for weddings; you can't come in white. + + May we come in black? + Black is for funerals, so you can come in that. + +Jenny is then carried and buried (_i.e._, laid on the grass) by two +of the girls, while the rest follow as mourners, uttering a low, +prolonged wail. + +Perhaps the earliest acted tragedy--a tragedy acted before Æschylus +lived--was something like this. Anyhow, it may remind us of how early +a taste for the tragic is developed, if not in the life of mankind +at all events in the life of man. "What is the reason," asks St +Augustine, "that men wish to be moved by the sight of tragic and +painful things, which, nevertheless, they do not wish to undergo +themselves? For the spectators (at a play) desire to feel grieved, +and this grief is their joy: whence comes it unless from some strange +spiritual malady?"[7] + +Dr Pitrè describes this Sicilian game: A child lies down, pretending +to be dead. His companions stand round and sing a dirge in the most +dolorous tones. Now and then, one of them runs up to him and lifts +an arm or a leg, afterwards letting it fall, to make sure that he is +quite dead. Satisfied on this point, they prepare to bury him, but +before doing so, they nearly stifle him with parting kisses. Tired, at +last, of his painful position, the would-be dead boy jumps up and gets +on the back of the most aggressive of his playmates, who is bound to +carry him off the scene. + +To play at funerals was probably a very ancient amusement. No doubt +some such game as the above is alluded to in the text, "... children +sitting in the markets and calling unto their fellows and saying, We +have piped unto you and ye have not danced, we have mourned unto you +and ye have not lamented." + + +VI. + +Mysteries and Miracle Plays must not be forgotten, though in their +origin they were not a plant of strictly popular growth. Some writers +consider that they were instituted by ecclesiastics as rivals to +the lay or pagan plays which were still in great favour in the first +Christian centuries. Others think with Dr Hermann Ulrici,[8] that they +grew naturally out of the increasingly pictorial celebration of +the early Greek liturgy,--painted scenes developing into _tableaux +vivants_, and these into acted and spoken interludes. It is certain +that they were started by the clergy, who at first were the sole +actors, assuming characters of both sexes. As time wore on, something +more lively was desired, and clowns and buffoons were accordingly +introduced. They appeared in the Innsbruck Play of the fourteenth +century; and again in 1427, in the performances given at Metz, while +the serious parts were acted by ecclesiastics, the lighter, or comic +parts, were represented by laymen. These performances were held in a +theatre constructed for the purpose, but mysteries were often played +in the churches themselves, nor is the practice wholly abandoned. +A Nativity play is performed in the churches of Upper Gascony on +Christmas Eve, of which the subjoined account will, perhaps, be read +with interest:-- + + In the middle of the Midnight Mass, just when the priest has + finished reading the gospel, Joseph and Mary enter the nave, + the former clad in the garb of a village carpenter with his + tools slung across his shoulder, the latter dressed in a robe + of spotless white. The people divide so as to let them pass up + the church, and they look about for a night's lodging. In one + part of the church the stable of Bethlehem is represented + behind a framework of greenery; here they take up their + position, and presently a cradle is placed beside them which + contains the image of a babe. The voice of an angel from on + high now proclaims the birth of the Infant Saviour, and calls + on the shepherds to draw near to the sound of glad music. The + way in which this bit of theatrical "business" is managed, is + by a child in a surplice, with wings fastened to his + shoulders, being drawn up to the ceiling seated on a chair, + which is supported by ropes on a pulley. The shepherds, real + shepherds in white, homespun capes, with long crooks decked + with ribbons, are placed on a raised dais, which stands for + the mountain. They wake up when they hear the angel's song, + and one of them exclaims: + + Diou dou cèou, quino vèro vouts! + Un anjou mous parlo, pastous; + Biste quieten noste troupet! + Mes que dit l'anjou, si vous plaît? + + (Heavens! with how sweet a voice + The angel calls us to rejoice; + Quick leave your flocks: but tell me, pray, + What doth the heavenly angel say?) + + The angel replies in French: + + Rise, shepherd, nor delay, + 'Tis God who summons thee, + Hasten with zeal away + Thy Saviour's self to see. + The Lord of Hosts hath shown + That since this glorious birth, + War shall be no more known, + But peace shall reign on earth. + + The shepherds, however, are not very willing to be disturbed: + "Let me sleep! Let me sleep!" says one of them, and another + goes so far as to threaten to drive away the angel if he does + not let them alone. "Come and render homage to the new-born + babe," sings the angel, "and cease to complain of your happy + lot." They answer: + + A happy lot + We never yet possest, + A happy lot + For us poor shepherd folk existeth not; + Then wherefore utter the strange jest + That by an infant's birth we shall be blest + With happy lot? + + The shepherds begin to bestir themselves. One says that he + feels overcome with fear at the sound of so much noise and + commotion. The angel responds, "Come without fear; do not + hesitate, but redouble your speed. It is in this village, in a + poor place, near yonder wood, that you may see the Infant + Lord." Another of the shepherds, who seems to have only just + woke up, inquires: + + What do you say? + This to believe what soul is able; + What do you say? + Where do these shepherds speed away? + To see their God within a stable: + This surely seems an idle fable; + What do you say? + + "To understand how it is, go and behold with your own eyes," + replies the angel; to which the shepherd answers, "Good + morrow, angel; pardon me if I have spoken lightly; I will go + and see what is going on." Another, still not quite easy in + his mind, observes that he cannot make out what the angel + says, because he speaks in such a strange tongue. The angel + immediately replies in excellent Gascon patois: + + Come, shepherds, come + From your mountain home, + Come, see the Saviour in a stable born, + This happy morn. + Come, shepherds, come, + Let none remain behind, + Come see the wretched sinners' friend, + The Saviour of mankind. + + When they hear the good news, sung to a quaint and inspiriting + air in their own language, the shepherds hesitate no longer, + but set off for Bethlehem in a body. One of them, it is true, + expresses some doubts as to what will become of the flocks in + their absence; but a veteran shepherd strikes his crook upon + the ground and sternly reproves him for being anxious about + the sheep when a heavenly messenger has declared that "God has + made Himself the Shepherd of mankind." They leave the dais, + and march out of the church, the whole of which is now + considered as being the stable. After a while the shepherds + knock for admittance, and their voices are heard in the calm + crisp midnight air chaunting these words to sweet and solemn + strains: + + Master of this blest abode, + O guardian of the Infant God, + Open your honoured gate, that we + May at His worship bend the knee. + + Joseph fears that the strangers may perchance be enemies, but + reassured by an angel, he opens the door, only naïvely + regretting that the lowly chamber "should be so badly + lighted." They prostrate themselves before the cradle, and the + choir bursts forth with: + + Gloria Deo in excelsis, + O Domine te laudamus, + O Deus Pater rex caelestis, + In terra pax hominibus. + + The shepherdesses then render their homage, and deposit on the + altar steps a banner covered with flowers and greenery, from + which hang strings of small birds, apples, nuts, chestnuts, + and other fruits. It is their Christmas offering to the curé; + the shepherds have already placed a whole sheep before the + altar, in a like spirit. + + The next scene takes us into Herod's palace, where the magi + arrive, and are directed to proceed to Bethlehem. During their + adoration of the Infant Saviour, Mass is finished, and the + Sacrament is administered; after which the play is brought to + a close with the flight into Egypt and the massacre of the + Innocents. + +This primitive drama gives a better idea of the early mysteries than +do the performances at Ober Ammergau, which have been gradually pruned +and improved under the eye of a critical public. But it is unusually +free from the absurdities and levities which abound in most miracle +plays; such as the wrangle between Noah and his wife in the old +Chester Mysteries, in which the latter declares "by St John" that the +Flood is a false alarm, and that no power on earth shall make her go +into the Ark. Noah ends with putting her on board by main force, and +is rewarded by a box on the ear. + +The best surviving sample of a non-scriptural rustic play is probably +_Saint Guillaume of Poitou_, a Breton versified drama in seven acts. +The history of the Troubadour Count whose wicked manhood leads to a +preternaturally pious old age, corresponds to every requirement of the +peasant play-goer. Time and space are set airily at defiance; saints +and devils are not only called, but come at the shortest notice; +the plot is exciting enough to satisfy the strongest craving for +sensation, and the dialogue is vigorous, and, in parts, picturesque. +One can well believe that the fiery if narrow patriotism of a Breton +audience would be stirred by the scene where the reformed Count +William, who has withstood all other blandishments, is almost lured +out of his holy seclusion by the Evil One coming to him in the shape +of a fellow-townsman who represents his city as hard pressed by +overwhelming foes, and in its extremest need, imploring his aid; that +the religious fervour of Breton peasants would be moved by the +recital of the vision in which a very wicked man appears at the bar +of judgment: his sins out-number the hairs of his head, you would call +him an irredeemable wretch; yet it does so happen that once upon a +time he gave two pilgrims a bed of straw in a pig-stye, and now St +Francis throws this straw into the balance, and it bends down the +scale! + +So in the Song of the Sun, in Sæmund's _Edda_, a fierce freebooter, +who has despoiled mankind, and who always ate alone, opens his door +one evening to a tired wayfarer, and gives him meat and drink. The +guest meditates evil; then in his sleep he murders his host, but he is +doomed to take on him all the sins of the man he has slain, while the +one-time evil-doer's soul is borne by angels into a life of purity, +where it shall live for ever with God. This motive is repeatedly +introduced into folk-lore, and was made effective use of by Victor +Hugo in _Sultan Mourad_, the infamous tyrant who goes to Heaven on the +strength of having felt momentary compassion for a pig. + +In plays of the _Saint Guillaume_ class, the plain language in which +the vices and oppression of the nobles is denounced shows signs of +the slow surging up of the democratic spirit whose traces through the +middle ages are nowhere to be more fruitfully sought than in popular +literature--though they lie less in the rustic drama than in the great +mediæval satires, such as _Reynard the Fox_ and _Marcolfo_, the +latter of which is still known to the Italian people under the form of +_Bertoldo_, in which it was recast in the sixteenth century, by G. B. +Croce, the rhyming blacksmith of Bologna. + + +VII. + +Epopees, _chansons de geste_, romantic ballads, occasional or +ceremonial songs, nursery rhymes, singing-games, rustic dramas; to +these must be added the great order of purely personal and lyrical +songs, of which the unique and exclusive subject is love. Popular love +songs have one quality in common: a sincerity which is not perhaps +reached in the entire range of lettered amorous poetry. Love is to +these singers a thing so serious that however high they fly, they do +not outsoar what is to them the atmosphere of truth. "La passion parle +là toute pure," as Molière said of the old song: + + Si le roi m'avoit donné + Paris, sa grande ville, + Et qu'il me fallût quitter + L'amour de ma mie: + Je dirois au roi Henri + Reprenez votre Paris + J'aime mieux ma mie, oh gay! + J'aime mieux ma mie. + +An immense, almost incredible, number of popular songs have been set +down during the last twenty years by collectors who, like Tigri in +Tuscany, and Pitrè in Sicily, have done honour to their birthlands, +and an enduring service to literature. It has been seen that Italy, +Portugal, and Spain have songs which, though differing in shape, are +yet materially alike. Where was the original fount of this lyrical +river? Some would look for it in Arabia, and cite the evident poetic +fertility of those countries where Arab influence once prevailed. +Others regard the existing passion-verse as a descendant of the +mediæval poetry associated with Provence. Others, again, while +admitting that there may have been modifications of form, find it +hard to believe that there was ever a time, since the type was first +established, when the southern peasant was dumb, or when he did not +sing in substance very much as he does now. + +Whatever theory be ultimately accepted, it is certain that the popular +love-poetry of southern nations, such as it has been received direct +from peasant lips, is not the least precious gift we owe to the +untaught, uncultured poet, who after having been for long ages ignored +or despised, is now raised to his rightful place near the throne of +his illustrious brother, the perfect lettered poet. Pan sits unrebuked +by the side of Apollo. + + * * * * * + +These introductory remarks are meant to do no more than to show the +principal landmarks of folk-poetry. The subject is a wide one, as +they best know who have given it the most careful attention. In +the following essays, I have dealt with a few of its less familiar +aspects. I would, in conclusion, express my gratitude to the +indefatigable excavators of popular lore whose large labours have +made my small work possible, and to all who have helped, whether by +furnishing unedited specimens or by procuring copies of rare books. +My cordial thanks are also due to the editors and publishers of the +_Cornhill Magazine_, _Fraser's Magazine_, the _National Review_, +the _British Quarterly Review_, the _Revue Internationale_, the +_Antiquary_, and the _Record_ and _Journal_ of the Folk-lore Society, +for leave to reprint such part of this book as had appeared in those +publications. + + SALÒ, LAGO DI GARDA, + _January 15 1886_. + + + + + [Footnote 1: Voltaire.] + + [Footnote 2: + + Sire cuens, j'ai vielé + Devant vous, en vostre osté; + Si ne m'avez, riens doné, + Ne mes gages aquité + C'est vilanie; + + Foi que doi Sainte Marie! + Ainc ne vos sievrai je mie, + M'aumosniere est mal garnie + Et ma malle mal farsie. + + Sire cuens, quar comandez + De moi vostre volonté. + Sire, s'il vous vient à gré + Un beau don car me donez + Par cortoisie. + Talent ai, n'en dotez mie, + De r'aler à ma mesnie. + Quant vois borse desgarnie, + Ma feme ne me rit mie. + + Ains me dit: Sire Engelé + En quel terre avez esté, + Qui n'avez rien conquesté + Aval la ville? + Vez com vostre male plie, + Ele est bien de vent farsie. + Honi soit qui a envie + D'estre en vostre compaignie. + + Quant je vieng à mon hosté + Et ma feme a regardé + Derier moi le sac enflé, + Et ge qui sui bien paré + De robe grise, + Sachiez qu'ele a tot jus mise + La quenoille, sans faintise. + Elle me rit par franchise, + Les deux bras au col me lie. + + Ma feme va destrousser + Ma male, sanz demorer. + Mon garçon va abruver + Mon cheval et conreer. + Ma pucele va tuer + Deux chapons por deporter + A la sause aillie; + + Ma fille m'apporte un pigne. + En sa main par cortoisie + Lors sui de mon ostel sire, + A mult grant joie, sans ire, + Plus que nus ne porroit dire. + ] + + [Footnote 3: Not to speak of Charlemagne, who ordered a + collection to be made of German songs.] + + [Footnote 4: A fuller description of German harvest customs, + with remarks on their presumed meaning, will be found in the + Rev. J. Van den Gheyn's "Essais de Mythologie et de Philologie + comparée," 1885.] + + [Footnote 5: Mr W. R. S. Ralston has kindly communicated to me + this Russian version, which he translates: "Snail, snail, put + forth thy horns, I will give to thee cakes."] + + [Footnote 6: "Les deux Masques," tome i. p. 1.] + + [Footnote 7: "Confessions," book iii. chap. 11.] + + [Footnote 8: "Shakespeare's Dramatic Art," 1876.] + + + + +THE INSPIRATION OF DEATH IN FOLK-POETRY. + + +The Roumanians call death "the betrothed of the world:" that which +awaits. The Neapolitans give it the name of _la vedova_: that +which survives. It would be easy to go on multiplying the stock of +contrasting epithets. Inevitable yet a surprise, of daily incidence +yet a mystery, unvarying yet most various, a common fact yet incapable +of becoming common-place, death may be looked at from innumerable +points of view; but, look at it how we will, it moves and excites +our spiritual consciousness as nothing else can do. The first poet of +human things was perhaps one who stood in the presence of death. +In the twilight that went before civilization the loves of men were +prosaic, and intellectual unrest was remote, but there was already +Rachel weeping for her children and would not be comforted because +they are not. Death, high priest of the ideal, led man in his infancy +through a crisis of awe passing into transcendent exaltation, kindred +with the state which De Quincey describes when recalling the feelings +wrought in his childish brain by the loss of his sister. It set the +child-man asking why? first sign of a dawning intelligence; it told +him in familiar language that we lie on the borders of the unknown; it +opened before him the infinite spaces of hope and fear; it shattered +to pieces the dull round of the food-seeking present, and built up out +of the ruins the perception of a past and a future. It was the symbol +of a human oneness with the coming and going of day and night, summer +and winter, the rising and receding tide. It caused even the rudest +of men to speak lower, to tread more softly, revealing to him unawares +the angel Reverence. And above all, it wounded the heart of man. M. +Renan says with great truth, "Le grand agent de la marche du monde, +c'est la douleur." What poetry owes to the bread of sorrow has never +been better told than by the Greek folk-singer, who condenses it into +one brief sentence: "Songs are the words spoken by those who suffer." + +The influence of death on the popular imagination is shown in those +ballads of the supernatural of which folk-poetry offers so great an +abundance as to make choice difficult. One of the most powerful as +well as the most widely diffused of the people's ghost stories is that +which treats of the persecuted child whose mother comes out of her +grave to succour him. There are two or three variants of this among +the Czech songs. A child aged eighteen months loses his mother. As +soon as he is old enough to understand about such things, he asks his +father what he has done with her? "Thy mother sleeps a heavy sleep, no +one will wake her; she lies in the graveyard hard by the gate." When +the child hears that, he runs to the graveyard. He loosens the earth +with a big pin and pushes it aside with his little finger. Then he +cries mournfully, "Ah! mother, little mother, say one little word to +me!" "My child, I cannot," the mother replies, "my head is weighed +down with clay; on my heart is a stone which burns like fire; go home +little one, there you have another mother." "Ah!" rejoins he, "she is +not good like you were. When she gives me bread she turns it thrice; +when you gave it me you spread it with butter. When she combs my hair +she makes my head bleed; when you combed my hair, mother, you fondled +it. When she bathes my feet she bruises them against the side of the +basin; when you bathed them you kissed them. When she washes my shirt +she loads me with curses; you used to sing whilst you washed." The +mother answers: "Go back to the house, my child, to-morrow I will come +for you." The child goes back to the house and lies down in his bed. +"Ah! father, my little father, make ready my winding-sheet, my +soul now belongs to God, my body to the grave, to the grave near my +mother--how glad her heart will be!" One day he was ill, the second he +died, the third day they buried him. The effect is heightened by the +interval placed between the mother's death and the child's awakening +to his own forlorn condition. When the mother died he was too young to +think or to grieve. He did not know that she was gone until he missed +her. Only by degrees, after years of harsh treatment, borne with the +patience of a child or a dumb animal, he began to feel intuitively +rather than to remember that it had not been always so--that he had +once been loved. Then, going straight to the point with the terrible +accusative power that lies in children, he said to the father, "What +have you done with my mother?" He had been able to live and to suffer +until he was old enough to think; when he thought, he died. Here +we have an instance, one of the many that exist, of a motive which, +having recurred again and again in folk-poetry, gets handled at last +by a master-poet, who gives it enduring shape and immortality. Victor +Hugo may or may not have known the popular legend. It is most likely +that he did not know it. Yet, stripped of the marvellous, and modified +in certain secondary points of construction, the story is the story +of "Petit Paul," little Paul, the child of modern France, who takes +company with Dante's Anselmuccio and Shakespeare's Arthur, and who +with them will live in the pity of all time. The Ruthenes affirm +that it was Christ who bade the child seek his mother's grave. The +Provençal folk-poet begins his tale: "You shall hear the complaint of +three very little children." The mother of these children was dead, +the father had married again. The new wife brought a hard time for the +children, and the day came when they were like to starve. The littlest +begged for a bit of bread, and he got a kick which threw him to the +ground. Then the biggest of the brothers said, "Get up and let us go +to our mother in the graveyard; she will give us bread." They set out +at once; on their way they met Jesus Christ. + + Et ount anetz, mes angis, + Mes angis tant petits? + +"Where are you going, my angels, my so very small angels?" "We go to +the graveyard to find our mother." Jesus Christ tells the mother to +come forth and give her children food. "How would you have me come +forth, when there is no strength left in me?" He answers that her +strength shall come back to her for seven years. Now, as the end of +the seven years drew near, she was always sobbing and sighing, and the +children asked why it was. "I weep, my children, because I have to go +away from you." "Weep no more, mother, we will all go together; one +shall carry the hyssop, another will take the taper, the last will +hold the book. We will go home singing." The Provençal poet does not +tell us what happened when the resuscitated wife came back to her +former abode; we have to go to Scandinavia for an account of that. +Dyring the Dane went to an island and wed a fair maiden. For seven +years they dwelt together and were blessed with children; but while +the youngest born was still a helpless babe, Death stalked through the +land and carried off the young wife in his clutches. Dyring went to +another island and married a girl who was bad and spiteful. He brought +her home to his house, and when she reached the door the six little +children were there crying. She thrust them aside with her foot, she +gave them no ale and no bread; she said, "You shall suffer thirst and +hunger." She took from them their blue cushions, and said, "You shall +sleep on straw." She took from them their wax candles, and said, +"You shall stay in the dark." In the evening, very late, the children +cried, and their mother heard them under the ground. She listened as +she lay in her shroud, and thought to herself, "I must go to my little +children." She begged our Lord so hard to let her go, that her prayer +was granted. "Only you must be back when the cock crows." She lifted +her weary limbs, the grave gaped, she passed through the village, the +dogs howled as she passed, throwing up their noses in the air. When +she got to the house, she saw her eldest daughter on the threshold. +"Why are you standing there, my dear daughter? Where are your brothers +and sisters?" The daughter knew her not. She said her mother was +fair and blithe, her face was white and pink. "How can I be fair and +blithe? I am dead, my face is pale. How can I be white and pink, when +I have been all this time in my winding-sheet?" Answering thus, the +mother hastened to her little children's chamber. She found them with +tears running down their cheeks. She brushed the clothes of one, she +tidied the hair of the second, she lifted the third from the floor, +she comforted the fourth, the fifth she set on her knee as though +she were fain to suckle it. To the eldest girl she said, "Go and tell +Dyring to come here." And when he came she cried in wrath, "I left you +ale and bread, and my little ones hunger; I left you blue cushions, +and my little ones lie on straw; I left you waxen candles, and my +little ones are in the dark. Woe betide you, if there be cause +I should return again! Behold the red cock crows, the dead fly +underground. Behold the black cock crows, heaven's doors are thrown +wide. Behold the white cock crows, I must begone." So saying she went, +and was seen no more. Ever after that night each time Dyring and his +wife heard the dogs bark they gave the children ale and bread; each +time they heard the dogs bay they were seized with dread of the dead +woman; each time they heard the dogs howl they trembled lest she +should come back. Two universal beliefs are introduced into this +variant: the disappearance of the dead at cock crow, and the +connection of the howling of dogs with death or the dead. The last +is a superstition which still obtains a wide acceptance even among +educated people. I was speaking of it lately to an English officer, +who stated that he had twice heard the death howl, once while on duty +in Ireland, and once, if I remember right, in India. It was, he said, +totally unlike any other noise produced by a dog. I observed that +all noises sound singular when the nerves are strained by painful +expectancy; but he answered that in his own case his feelings were not +involved, as the death which occurred, in one instance at least, was +that of a perfect stranger. + +The interpretation of dreams as a direct intercourse with the +spiritual world is not usual in folk-lore; the people hardly see the +need of placing the veil of sleep between mortal eyes and ghostly +appearances. In a Bulgarian song, however, a sleeping girl speaks with +her dead mother. Militza goes down into the little garden where +the white and red roses are in bloom. She is weary, and she is soon +asleep. A small fine rain begins to fall, the wind rustles in the +leaves; Militza sighs, and having sighed, she awakes. Then she +upbraids the rain and the wind: "Whistle no more, O wind; thou, O +rain, descend no more; for in my dreams I found my mother. Rain, may +thy fount be dried; mayst thou be for ever silent, O wind: ye have +taken me from the counsel my mother gave me." The few lines thus +baldly summarized make up, as it seems to me, a little masterpiece of +delicate conception and light workmanship: one which would surprise us +from the lips of a letterless poet, were there not proof that no touch +is so light and so sure as that of the artificer untaught in our own +sense--the man or the woman who produces the intricate filigree, the +highly wrought silver, the wood carving, the embroidery, the lace, the +knitted wool rivalling the spider's web, the shawl with whose weft and +woof a human life is interwoven. + +I have only once come upon the case of a father who returns to take +care of his offspring. Mr Chu, a worthy Chinese gentleman, revisited +this earth as a disembodied spirit to guard and teach his little boy +Wei. When Wei reached the age of twenty-two, and took his doctor's +degree, his father, Mr Chu, finally vanished. As a general rule, the +Chinese consider the sight of his former surroundings to be the worst +penalty that can befall a soul. Mr Herbert Giles, in his fascinating +work on the Liao-Chai of P'u Sing-Ling, gives a full account of the +terrible See-one's-home terrace as represented in the fifth court of +Purgatory in the Taoist Temples. Good souls, or even those who have +done partly good and partly evil, will never stand thereon. The souls +of the wicked only see their homes as if they were near them: they see +their last wishes disregarded, everything upside down, their substance +squandered, the husband prepares to take a new wife, strangers possess +the old estate, in their misery the dead man's family curse him, his +children become corrupt, lands are gone, the house is burnt, the wife +sees her husband tortured, the husband sees his wife stricken down +with mortal disease; friends forget: "some perhaps for the sake of +bygone times may stroke the coffin and let fall a tear, departing with +a cold smile." In the West, this gloomy creed is perhaps hinted at in +the French proverb, "Les morts sont bien mort." But Western thought at +its best, at its highest, imagines differently. It imagines that the +most gracious privilege of immortal spirits is that of beholding those +beloved of them in mortal life-- + + I am still near, + Watching the smiles I prized on earth, + Your converse mild, your blameless mirth. + +Happy and serene optimism! + +The ghosts of folk-lore return not only to succour the innocent, they +come back also to convict the guilty. The avenging ghost shows himself +in all kinds of strange and uncanny ways rather than in his habit as +he lived. He comes in animal or vegetable shape; or perhaps he uses +the agency of some inanimate object. In the Faroe Isles there is a +story of a girl whose sister pushed her into the sea out of jealousy. +The blue waves cast ashore her body, which was found by two pilgrims, +who made the arms into a harp, and the flaxen locks into strings. Then +they went and played the harp at the wedding feast of the murderess +and the dead girl's betrothed. The first string said, "The bride is +my sister." The second string said, "The bride caused my death." The +third string said, "The bridegroom is my betrothed." The harp's notes +swelled louder and louder, and the guilty bride fell sick unto death; +before the pilgrims had done playing, her heart broke. This is much +the same story as the "Twa Sisters of Binnorie." A Slovack legend +describes two musicians who, as they were travelling together, noticed +a fine plane tree; and one said to the other, "Let us cut it down, +it is just the thing to make a violin of; the violin will be equally +yours and mine; we will play on it by turn." At the first blow the +tree sighed; at the second blow blood spurted out; at the third blow +the tree began to talk. It said: "Musicians, fair youths, do not cut +me down; I am not a tree, I am made of flesh and blood; I am a lovely +girl of the neighbouring town; my mother cursed me while I drew +water--while I drew water and chatted with my friend. 'Mayst thou +change into a plane tree with broad leaves,' said she. Go ye, +musicians, and play before my mother." So they betook themselves +to the mother's door and played a dirge over her child. "Play not, +musicians, fair youths," she entreated. "Rend not my heart by your +playing. I have enough of woe in having lost my daughter. Hapless the +mother who curses her children!" The well-known German tale of the +juniper tree belongs to the same class. A beautiful little boy is +killed by his step-mother, who serves him up as a dish of meat to his +father. The father eats in ignorance, and throws away the bones, which +are gathered up by the little half-sister, who puts them into her best +silk handkerchief and buries them under a juniper tree. Presently a +bird of gay plumage perches on the tree, and whistles as it flits from +branch to branch-- + + Min moder de mi slach't, + Min fader de mi att, + Min swester de Marleenken + Söcht alle mine Beeniken, + Und bindt sie in een syden Dook + Legst unner den Machandelboom; + Ky witt! ky witt! Ach watt en schön vagel bin ich! + +--a rhyme which Goethe puts into the mouth of Gretchen in prison. In +the German story the step-mother's brains are knocked out by the fall +of a mill-stone, and the bird-boy is restored to human form; but in +a Scotch variant the last event does not take place. It may have been +thrown in by some narrator who had a weakness for a plot which ends +well. All these wonder-tales had probably an original connection +with a belief in the transmigration of souls. In truth, the people's +_Märchen_ are rooted nearly always on some article of ancient faith: +that is why they have so long a life. Faith vitalizes poetry or legend +or art; and what once lived takes a great time to die. Now that the +beliefs which fostered them have gone into the lumber-room of disused +religions, the old wonder-tales still have a freshness and a horror +which cannot be found even in the best of brand-new "made-up" stories. + +Another reason why the dead come back is to fulfil a promise. The +Greek mother of the Kleft song has nine sons and one only daughter. +She bathes her in the darkness, her hair she combs in the light, she +dresses her beneath the shining of the moon. A stranger from Bagdad +has asked her in marriage, and Constantine, one of the sons, counsels +his mother to give her to the stranger. "Thou art wont to be prudent, +but in this thou art senseless," says the mother. "Who will bring her +back to me if there be joy or sorrow?" Constantine gives her God as +surety, and all the saints and martyrs, that if there be sorrow or joy +he will bring her back. In two years all the nine sons die, and when +it is Constantine's turn, the mother leans over his body and tears +her hair. Fain would she have back her daughter Arete, and behold +Constantine lies dead. At midnight Constantine gets up and goes to +where his sister dwells, and bids Arete to follow him. She asks what +has happened, but he tells her nothing. While they journey along the +birds sing: "See you that lovely girl riding with the dead?" Then +Arete asks her brother if he heard what the birds said. "They are only +birds," he answers; "never mind them." She says her brother has such +an odour of incense that it fills her with fear, "It is only," he +says, "because we passed the evening in the chapel of St John." When +they reach their home, the mother opens the portal and sees the dead +and the living come in together, and her soul leaves her body. The +motive of a ride with the dead, made familiar by the "Erl König" +and Burgher's "Lenore," can be traced through endless variations in +folk-poesy. + +In the Swedish ballad of "Little Christina," a lover rises from his +grave, not to carry off his beloved, but simply to console her. One +night Christina hears light fingers tapping at her door; she opens it, +and her dead betrothed comes in. She washes his feet with pure wine, +and for a long while they speak together. Then the cocks begin to +crow, and the dead get them underground. The young girl puts on her +shoes and follows her betrothed through the wide forest. When +they reach the graveyard, the fair hair of the young man begins to +disappear. "See, maiden," he says, "how the moon has reddened all at +once; even so, in a moment, thy beloved will vanish." She sits down on +the tomb and says: "I shall remain here till the Lord calls me." Then +she hears the voice of her betrothed saying to her: "Little Christina, +go back to thy dwelling-place. Every time a tear falls from thine eyes +my shroud is full of blood. Every time thy heart is gay, my shroud is +full of rose leaves." + +If the display of excessive grief is thus shown to be only grievous to +the dead, yet they are held to be keenly sensible of a lack of due and +decorous respect. Such respect they generally get from rough or savage +natures, unless it be denied out of intentional scorn or enmity. There +is a factory in England where common men are employed to manipulate +large importations of bones for agricultural uses. Each cargo contains +a certain quantity of bones which are very obviously human. These the +workmen sort out, and when they have got a heap they bury it, and ask +the manager to read over it some passages from the Burial Service. +They do it of their own free will and initiative; were they hindered, +they would very likely leave the works. Shall it be called foolish or +sublime? Another curious instance of respect to the dead comes to my +mind. On board ship two cannon balls are ordinarily sewed up with a +body to sink it. Once a negro died at sea, and his fellows, negroes +also, took him in a boat and rowed a long way to a place where they +were to commit him to the deep. After a while the boat returned to +the ship, still with its burden. The explanation was soon made. The +negroes discovered that they had only one cannon ball, they had rowed +back for the other. One would have been quite enough to answer all +purposes; but it seemed to them disrespectful to their comrade to +cheat him out of half his due. + +The dead particularly object to people treading carelessly on their +graves. So we learn from one of the songs of Greek outlawry. + + All Saturday we held carouse, and far through Sunday night, + And on the Monday morn we found our wine expended quite. + To seek for more without delay the captain made me go; + I ne'er had seen nor known the way, nor had a guide to show. + And so through solitary roads and secret paths I sped, + Which to a little ivied church long time deserted led. + This church was full of tombs, and all by gallant men possest; + One sepulchre stood all alone, apart from all the rest. + + I did not see it, and I trod above the dead man's bones, + And as from out the nether world came up a sound of groans. + What ails thee, sepulchre? why thus so deeply groan and sigh? + Doth the earth press, or the black stone weigh on thee heavily? + "Neither the earth doth press me down, nor black stone do me scath, + But I with bitter grief am wrung, and full of shame and wrath, + That thou dost trample on my head, and I am scorned in death. + Perhaps I was not also young, nor brave and stout in fight, + Nor wont as thou, beneath the moon, to wander through the night." + +Egil Skallagrimson, after his son was drowned, resolved to let himself +die of hunger. Thorgerd, his daughter, came to him and prayed hard of +him that he would sing. Touched by her affection, he made an effort, +gathered up his ideas, dressed them in images, expressed them in song; +and as he sang, his regrets softened, and in the end his soul became +so calm that he was satisfied to live. In this beautiful saga lies the +secret of folk-elegies. The people find comfort in singing. A Czech +maiden asks of the dark woods how they can be as green in winter as in +summer; as for her, she cannot help vexing her heart. "But who would +not weep in my place? Where is my father, my beloved father? The sandy +plain is his winding-sheet. Where is my mother, my good mother? The +grass grows over her. I have no brother and no sister, and they have +taken away my friend." Of a certainty when she had sung, her vexed +heart was lighter. "Seul a un synonym: mort." Yes, but he who sings +is scarcely alone, even though there be only the waving pine woods to +answer with a sigh. The most passionate laments of the Sclavonic race +are for father and mother. If a Little Russian loses both his parents +his despair is such that it often drives him forth a wanderer on the +face of the earth. One so bereft cries out, "Dear mother, why didst +thou suffer me to see the day? Why didst thou bring me into the world +without obtaining for me by thy prayers a portion of its blessings? +My father and my mother are dead, and with them my country. Why was I +left a wretched orphan? Oh, could I find a being miserable as myself +that we might sympathize one with the other!" The birth-ties of +kindred are reckoned the only strong ones. Some Russian lines, +translated by Mr Ralston, indicate the degrees of mourning: + + There weeps his mother--as a river runs; + There weeps his sister--as a streamlet flows; + There weeps his youthful wife--as falls the dew; + The sun will rise and gather up the dew. + +A Servian _pesma_ illustrates the same idea. Young Tövo has the +misfortune to break his arm. A doctor is fetched--no other than a Vila +of the mountain. The wily sprite demands in guerdon for the cure the +right hand of the mother, the sister's long hair, with the ribbons +that bind it, the pearl necklace of the wife. Quickly the mother +sacrifices her right hand, quickly the sister cuts off her much-prized +braid, but the wife says, "Give up my white pearls that my father gave +me? Not I!" The Vila waxes angry and poisons Tövo's blood. When he is +dead three women fall "a-kookooing"--one groans without ceasing; one +sobs at dawn and dusk; one weeps just now and then when it comes into +her head so to do. As the cuckoo is supposed to be a sister mourning +for her brother, kookooing has come to mean lamenting. The Servian +girl who has lately lost her brother cannot hear the cuckoo's note +without weeping. In popular poetry the love of sister for brother +takes precedence even of the love of mother for child. Not only does +Gudrun in the Elder Edda esteem the murder of her first lord, the +god-like Sigurd, to be of less importance than that of her brothers, +but also to avenge their deaths, she has no scruple in slaying both +her second husband and her own sons. A Bulgarian ballad shows in still +more striking light the relative value set on the lives of child +and brother. There was a certain man named Negul, whose head was in +danger. The folk-poet is careful to express no sort of censure upon +his hero, but the boasts he is made to utter are sufficient guides to +his character. Great numbers of Turks has he put to flight, and yet +more women has he killed of those who would not follow him meekly as +his wives. "And now," he adds plaintively, "a misfortune has befallen +me which I have done nothing at all to deserve." His sister Milenka +hears him bemoaning his fate, and at once she says to him, "Brother +Negul, Negul, my brother, do not disturb yourself, do not distress +yourself; I have nine sons, nine sons and one daughter; the youngest +of all is Lalo; him will I sacrifice to save you; I will sacrifice him +so that you may remain to me." This was the promise of Milenka. Then +she hastened to her own home and prepared hot meats and set flasks of +golden wine wherewith to feast her sons. "Eat and drink together," +she said, "and kiss one another's hands, for Lalo is going away to be +groomsman to his Uncle Negul. Let your mother see you all assembled, +and serve you each in turn with ruddy wine and with smoking viands." +For the others she did not wholly fill the glass, but Lalo's glass +she filled to the brim. Meanwhile Elka, Lalo's sister, made ready his +clothes for the journey; and as she busied about it, the little girl +cried because Lalo was going to be groomsman, and they had not asked +her to be bridesmaid. Lalo said to Elka, "Elka, my little only sister, +do not cry so, sister; do not be so vexed; we are nine brothers, and +one of these days you will surely act as bridesmaid." The words were +hardly spoken when the headsmen reached the door. They took Lalo, +the groomsman, and they chopped off his head in place of his Uncle +Negul's. + +A new and different world is entered when we follow the folk-poet +upon the wrestling-ground of Death and Love. If I have judged rightly, +there were songs of death before there were any other love songs than +those of the nightingale; but the folk-poet was still young when he +learnt to sing of love, and the love poet found out early that his +lyre was incomplete without the string of death. In all folk-poetry +can be plainly heard that music of love and death which may be +said almost to have been the dominant note that sounded through the +literature of the ages of romance. Sometimes the victory is given to +death, sometimes to love; in one song love, while yielding, conquers. +Folk-poetry has not anything more instinct with the quality of +intensity than is this "Last Request" of a Greek robber-lover-- + + When thou shalt hear that I am ill, + O my well-beloved! he said, + O come to me, and quickly come, + Or thou wilt find me dead. + And when that thou hast reached the house, + And the great gates passed through, + Then, O my well-beloved, the braids + Of thy bright hair undo. + And to my mother say straightway, + Tell me, where is your son? + My son is lying on his bed + In his chamber all alone. + Then mount the stairs, O my well-beloved, + And come your lover anigh, + And smooth my pillow that I may + Raise me a little high, + And hold my head up in thy hands + Till flies away my soul. + And when thou seest the priest arrive, + And dress him in his stole, + Then place, my well-beloved, a kiss + On my lips pale and cold; + And when four youths shall lift me up, + And on their shoulders hold, + Then shalt thou, O my well-beloved, + Cast at them many a stone. + And when they reach thy neighbourhood + And by thy house pass on, + Then, O my well-beloved, thy hair, + Thy golden tresses cut; + And when they reach the church's gate, + And there my coffin put, + Then as the hen her feathers plucks, + So pluck thy hair for me. + And when my dirges all are done, + And lights extinguished be, + Then shall my heart, O well-beloved, + Still be possessed of thee. + +We hardly notice the adventitious part of it--the ancient custom of +tearing off the hair, the strange stone-casting at the youths who +represent Charon; our attention is absorbed by what is the essence +of the song: passion which has burned itself into pure fire. Greek +folk-poetry shows a blending together of southern emotions with an +imaginative fervour, a prophetic power that is rather of the East than +of the South. No Tuscan ploughman, for instance, could seize the idea +of the Greek folk-poet of possessing his living love in death. If the +Tuscan thinks of a union in the grave, it can only be attained by the +one who remains joining the one who is gone-- + + O friendly soil, + Soil that doth hold my love in thine embrace, + Soon as for me shall end life's war and toil + Beneath thy sod I too would have a place; + Where my love is, there do I long to be, + Where now my heart is buried far from me-- + Yes, where my love is gone I long to go, + Robbed of my heart I bear too deep a woe. + +This stringer of pretty conceits fails to convince us that he is +very much in earnest in his wish to die. Speaking in the sincerity of +prose, the Tuscan says, "Ogni cosa è meglio che la morte." He does +not believe in the nothingness of life. In his worst troubles he still +feels that all his faculties, all his senses, are made for pleasure. +Death is to him the affair of a not cheerful religious ceremony--a +cross borne before a black draped bier, and bells tolling dolefully. + + I hear Death's step, I see him at my side, + I feel his bony fingers clasp me round; + I see the church's door is open wide, + And for the dead I hear the knell resound. + I see the cross and the black pall outspread; + Love, thou dost lead me whither lie the dead! + I see the cross, the winding-sheet I see; + Love, to the graveyard thou art leading me! + +Going further south, a stage further is reached in crude externality +of vision. People of the South are the only born realists. To them +that comes natural which in others is either affectation or the +fruits of what the French call _l'amour du laid_--a morbid love of the +hideous, such as marred the fine genius of Baudelaire. At Naples death +is a matter of corruption naked in the sunlight. When the Neapolitan +takes his mandoline amongst the tombs he unveils their sorry secrets, +not because he gloats over them, but because the habit of a reserve +of speech is entirely undeveloped in him. He dares to sing thus of his +lost love-- + + Her lattice ever lit no light displays. + My Nella! can it be that you are ill? + Her sister from the window looks and says: + "Your Nella in the grave lies cold and still. + Ofttimes she wept to waste her life unwed, + And now, poor child, she sleeps beside the dead." + Go to the church and lift the winding-sheet, + Gaze on my Nella's face--how changed, alas! + See 'twixt those lips whence issued flowers so sweet + Now loathsome worms (ah! piteous sight!) do pass. + Priest, let it be your care, and promise me, + That evermore her lamp shall lighted be. + +The song beats with the pulses of the people's life--the life of a +people swift in gesture, in action, in living, in dying: always in a +hurry, as if one must be quick for the catastrophe is coming. They are +all here: the lover waiting in the street for some sign or word; the +girl leaning out of window to tell her piece of news; the "poor +child" who had drunk of the lava stream of love; the dead lying +uncoffined in the church to be gazed upon by who will; the priest +to whom are given those final instructions: pious, and yet how +uncomforting, how unilluminated by hope or even aspiration! Here there +is no thought of reunion. A kind-hearted German woman once tried to +console a young Neapolitan whose lover was dead, by saying that they +might meet in Paradise. "In Paradise?" she answered, opening her large +black eyes; "Ah! signora, in Paradise people do not marry." + +The coming back or reappearance of a lover, in whose absence his +beloved has died, is a subject that has been made use of by the +folk-poets of every country, and nothing can be more characteristic of +the nationalities to which they belong than the divergences which +mark their treatment of it. Northern singers turn the narrative of +the event into half a fairy tale. On the banks of the Moldau we are +introduced to a joyous youth, returning with glad steps to his native +village. "My pretty girls, my doves, is my friend cutting oats with +you?" he asks of a group of girls working in the fields near his home. +"Only yesterday," they reply, "his friend was buried." He begs them +to tell him by which path they bore her away. It is a road edged with +rosemary; everybody knows it--it leads to the new cemetery. Thither +he goes, thrice he wanders round the place, the third time he hears a +voice crying, "Who is it treads on my grave and breaks the rest of +the dead?" "It is I, thy friend," he says, and he bids her rise up +and look on him. She says she cannot, she is too weak, her heart is +lifeless, her hands and feet are like stones. But the gravedigger has +left his spade hard by; with it her friend can shovel away the earth +that holds her down. He does what she tells him; when the earth is +lifted he beholds her stretched out at full length, a frozen maiden +crowned with rosemary. He asks to whom has she bequeathed his gifts. +She answers that her mother has them; he must go and beg them of her. +Then shall he throw the little scarf upon a bush, and there will be an +end to his love. And the silver ring he shall cast into the sea, and +there will be an end to his grief. On the shores of the Wener it is +Lord Malmstein who wakes before dawn from a dream that his beloved's +heart is breaking. "Up, up, my little page, saddle the grey; I must +know how it fares with my love." He mounts the horse and gallops into +the forests. Of a sudden two little maids stand in his path; one wears +a dress of blue, and hails him with the words: "God keep you, Lord +Malmstein; what bale awaits you!" The other is dight in red, and of +her Lord Malmstein asks, "Who is ill, and who is dead?" "No one is +ill, no one is dead, save only the betrothed of Malmstein." He makes +haste to reach the village; on the way he meets the bier of his +betrothed. Swiftly he leaps from the saddle; he pulls from off his +finger rings of fine gold, and throws them to the gravedigger--"Delve +a grave deep and wide, for therein we will walk together." His face +turns red and white, and he deals a mortal blow at his heart. This +Swedish Malmstein not only figures as the reappearing lover; he +is also one of that familiar pair whom death unites. In an ancient +Romansch ballad the story is simply an episode of peasant life. A +young Engadiner girl is forced by her father to marry a man of the +village of Surselva, but all the while her troth is plighted to a +youth from the village of Schams. On the road to Surselva the lover +joins the bride and bridegroom unknown to the latter. When they reach +the place the people declare that they have never seen so fair a +woman as the youthful bride. Her husband's father and mother greet +her saying, "Daughter, be thou welcome to our house!" But she answers, +"No, I have never been your daughter, nor do I hope ever to be; for +the time is near when I must die." Then her brothers and sisters greet +her saying, "O sister, be thou welcome to our house!" "No," she says, +"I have never been your sister, nor do I ever hope to be; for the time +comes when I must die. Only one kindness I ask of you, give me a room +where I may rest." They lead her to her chamber, they try to comfort +her with sweet words; but the more they would befriend her, the more +does the young bride turn her mind away from this world. Her lover is +by her side, and to him she says, "O my beloved, greet my father and +my mother; tell them that perhaps they have rejoiced their hearts, but +sure it is they have broken mine." She turns her face to the wall and +her soul returns to God. "O my beloved," cries the lover, "as thou +diest, and diest for me, for thee will I gladly die." He throws +himself upon the bed, and his soul follows hers. As the clock struck +two they carried her to the grave, as the clock struck three they came +for him; the marriage bells rang them to their rest; the chimes of +Schams answering back the chimes of Surselva. From the grave mound of +the girl grew a camomile plant, from the grave mound of the youth a +plant of musk; and for the great love they bore one another even the +flowers twined together and embraced. + + Uoi, i sül tömbel da quella bella + Craschiva sü üna flur da chiaminella; + Uoi, i sül tömbel da que bel mat + Craschiva sü üna flur nusch muschiat; + Per tant grond bain cha queus dus as leivan, + Parfin las fluors insemmel as brancleivan. + +It is a sign of a natural talent for democracy when the people like +better to tell stories about themselves than to discuss the fortunes +of prince or princess. The devoted lovers are more often to be looked +for in the immediate neighbourhood of a court. So it is in the ballad +of Count Nello of Portugal. Count Nello brings his horse to bathe; +while the horse drinks, the Count sings. It was already very dark--the +King could not recognise him. The poor Infanta knew not whether to +laugh or to cry. "Be quiet, my daughter; listen and thou wilt hear a +beautiful song. It is an angel singing, or the siren in the sea." "No, +it is no angel in heaven, nor is it the siren of the sea; it is Count +Nello, my father, he who fain would wed me." "Who speaks of Count +Nella who dare name him, the rebel vassal whom I have exiled?" "My +Lord, mine only is the fault; you should punish me alone; I cannot +live without him; it is I who have made him come." "Hold thy peace, +traitress; before day dawns thou shalt see his head cut off." "The +headsman who slays him may prepare for me too; there where you dig his +grave dig mine also." For whom are the bells tolling? Count Nello is +dead; the Infanta is like to die. The two graves are open; behold! +they lay the Count near the porch of the church and the Infanta at +the foot of the altar. On one grave grows a cypress, on the other an +orange tree; one grows, the other grows; their branches join and kiss. +The king, when he hears of it, orders them both to be cut down. From +the cypress flows noble blood, from the orange tree blood royal; from +one flies forth a dove, from the other a wood-pigeon. When the +king sits at table the birds perch before him. "Ill luck upon their +fondness," he cries, "ill luck upon their love! Neither in life nor in +death have I been able to divide them." The musk and the camomile +of Switzerland, the cypress and the orange tree of Portugal, are the +cypress and the reed of the Greek folk-song, the thorn and olive of +the Norman _chanson_, the rose and the briar of the English ballad, +the vine and the rose of the Tristram and Iseult story. Through the +world they tell their tale-- + + Amor condusse noi ad una morte. + +The death of heroes has provided an inexhaustible theme for +folk-poets. The chief or partisan leader had his complement in the +skald or bard or roving ballad-singer; if the one acted, turned tribes +into nations, cut out history, the other sang, published his +fame, gave his exploits to the future, preserved to his people the +remembrance of his dying words. The poetry of hero-worship, beginning +on Homeric heights, descends to the "lytell gestes" of all sorts +and conditions of more or less respectable and patriotic outlaws and +_condottieri_, whose "passing" is often the most honourable point +in their career. On the principle which has been followed--that of +letting the folk-poet speak for himself, and show what are his ideas +and his impressions after his own manner and in his own language--I +will take three death scenes from amongst the less known of those +recorded in popular verse. The first is Scandinavian. What ails +Hjalmar the Icelander? Why is his face so pale? The Norse Warrior +answers: "Sixteen wounds have I, and my armour is shattered. All +things grow black in my sight; I reel in walking; the bloody sword of +Agantyr has pierced my heart. Had I five houses in the fields I could +not dwell in one of them; I must abide at Samsa, hopeless and mortally +wounded. At Upsal, in the halls of Josur, many Jarls quaff joyously +the foaming ale, many Jarls exchange hot words; but as for me, I am +here in this island, struck down by the point of the sword. The white +daughter of Hilmer accompanied my steps to Aganfik beyond the reefs; +her words are come true, for she said I should return no more. Draw +off my finger the ring of ruddy gold, bear it to my youthful Ingebrog, +it will remind her that she will see me never more. In the east +upsoars the raven; after him the mightier eagle wings his way. I will +be meat for the eagle and my heart's blood his drink." One backward +look to all that was the joy of his life--the feast, the fight, the +woman he loved--and then a calm facing of the end. This is how the +Norseman died. The Greek hero, who dies peaceably in the ripeness of +old age, meets his doom with even less trouble of spirit-- + + The sun sank down behind the hill, + And Dimos faintly said, + 'Go, children, fetch your evening meal-- + The water and the bread. + Thou, Lamprakis, my brother's son, + Come hither, by me stand, + And arm me with my weapons, + And be captain of the band. + And, children, take my dear old sword + That I no more shall sway, + And cut the green boughs from the trees + And there my body lay; + And hither bring a priestly man + To whom I may confess, + That I may tell him all my sins, + And he forgive and bless. + For thirty years a soldier, + Twenty years a kleft was I; + Now death o'ertakes and seizes me, + 'Tis finished, I must die. + And be ye sure ye make my grave + Of ample height and large, + That in it I may stand upright, + Or lie my gun to charge. + And to the right a lattice make, + A passage for the day, + Where the swallow, bringing springtide, + May dart about and play, + And the nightingale, sweet singer, + Tell the happy month of May. + +The slight natural touches--the eagle soaring against the sunrise, the +nightingale singing through the May nights--suggest an intuition of +the will-of-the-wisp affinity between nature and human chances which +seems for ever on the point of being seized, but which for ever eludes +the mental grasp. We think of the "brown bird" in the noble "Funeral +Song" of one who would have been a magnificent folk-poet, had he not +learnt to write and read--Walt Whitman. + +My third specimen is a Piedmontese ballad composed probably about +a hundred and fifty years ago, and still very popular. Count Nigra +ascertained the existence of eight or more variants. A German soldier, +known in Italy as the Baron Lodrone, took arms under the house of +Savoy, in whose service he presently died. "In Turin," begins the +ballad, "counts and barons and noble dames mourn for the death of the +Baron Lodrone." The king went to Cuneo to visit his dying soldier; +drums and cannons greeted his approach. He spoke kind words to the +sick man: "Courage, thou wilt not die, and I will give thee the +supreme command." "There is no commander who can stand against death," +answered the baron. Now Lodrone was a Protestant, and when the king +was convinced that he must die, he exhorted him to conversion, saying +that he himself would stand his sponsor. Lodrone replied that that +could not be. The king did not insist; he only asked him where he +would be buried, and promised him a sepulchre of gold. He answered-- + + Mi lasserü për testament + Ch 'a mi sotero an val d' Lüserna, + An val d' Lüserna a m sotraran + Dova l me cör s'arposa tan! + +He does not care for a golden sepulchre, but he "leaves for testament" +that his body may lie in Val Luserna, "where my heart rests so well!" +The valley of Luserna was the seat of the Vaudois faith in the "alpine +mountains cold," watered with martyr blood only a little while before +Lodrone lived. To read these four simple lines after the fantasia of +wild or whimsical guesses, passionate longing, unresisted despair, +insatiable curiosity, that death has been seen to create or inspire, +is like going out of a public place with its multiform and voluble +presentment of men and things into the aisles of a small church which +would lie silent but that unseen hands pass over the organ keys. + + + + +NATURE IN FOLK-SONGS. + + +Nature, like music, does not initially make us think, it makes us +feel. A midnight scene in the Alps, a sunrise on the Mediterranean, +suspends at the moment of contemplating it all thought in pure +emotion. Afterwards, however, thought comes back and asks for a reason +for the emotion that has been felt. Man at an early age began to try +and explain, or give a tangible shape, to the feelings wrought in him +by Nature. In the first place he called the things that he saw gods, +"because the things are beautiful that are seen." Later on, seers and +myth-makers resigned their birthright into the hands of poets, who +became henceforth the interpreters between nature and man. A small +piece of this succession fell away from the great masters of the +world's song, and was picked up almost unconsciously by the obscure +and nameless folk-singer. Comparative folk-lore has shown that men +have everywhere the same customs, the same superstitions, the same +games. The study of folk-songs will go far to show that if they have +not likewise a complete community of taste and sentiment, yet even in +these, the finer fibres of their being, there is less of difference +and more of analogy than has been hitherto supposed. Folk-songs +prove, for instance, that the modern unschooled man is not so utterly +ignorant of natural beauty as many of us have imagined him to be. Only +we must not go from the extreme of expecting nothing to the extreme of +expecting too much; it has to be borne in mind that at best folk-poesy +is rather the stammering speech of children than a mature eloquence. + +It is a common idea that, until the other day, mountains were looked +upon with positive aversion. Still we know that there were always men +who felt the power of the hills: the men who lived in the hills. +When they were kept too long in the plain without hope of return they +sickened and died; when a vivid picture of their mountains was of a +sudden brought up before them, they lost control over their actions. +By force of association the sound of the _Kuhreihen_ could doubtless +give the Switzer a vision of the white peak, the milky torrent, the +chalet with slanting roof, the cows tripping down the green Alp to +their night quarters. It is disappointing to find that the words +accompanying the famous cow-call are as a rule mere nonsense. The +first observation which the genuine folk-poet makes about mountains +is the sufficiently self-evident one, that they form a wall between +himself and the people on the further side. The old Pyrenean balladist +seized the political significance of this: "When God created those +mountains," he said, "He did not mean that men should cross them." +Very often the mountain wall is spoken of as a barrier which separates +lovers. The Gascon peasants have an adaptation of Gaston Phoebus' +romance:-- + + Aqueros mountines + Qui ta haoutes soun, + M'empechen de bede + Mas arnous oun soun. + +In Bohemia the simple countryman poetises after much the same fashion +as the Gascon cavalier: "Mountain, mountain, thou art very high! My +friend, thou art far off, far beyond the mountains. Our love will fade +yet more and yet more; there is nothing left for me; in this world +no pleasantness remains." Another Czech singer laments that he is +not where his thought is; if only the mountains did not stand between +them, he would see his beloved walking in the garden and plucking blue +flowers. He tries what a prayer will do: "Mountains, black mountains, +step aside, so I may get my good friend for wife." In similar terms +the native of Friuli begs the dividing range to stoop so he may look +upon his love. Among Italian folk-poets the Friulian is foremost as +a lover of the greater heights; he turns to them habitually in his +moments of poetic inspiration, and, as he says, their echoes repeat +his sighs. It must be admitted that the Tuscan, on the contrary, feels +small sympathy with high mountains; if he speaks of one he is careful +to call it _aspra_, or rough and bitter. But he yields to no man +in his delight in the lesser hills, the _be' poggioli_ of his fair +birthland. Even if an intervening hillock divides him from his beloved +he speaks of the barrier tenderly rather than sadly: "O sun, thou that +goest over the hill-top, do me a kindness if thou canst--greet my +love whom I have not seen to-day. O sun, thou that goest over the +pear-trees, greet those black eyes. O sun, thou that goest over +the small ash-trees, greet those beautiful eyes!" A maiden sings +to herself, "I see what I see and I see not what I would; I see the +leaves flying in the air and I do not see my love turn back from the +hill-top. I do not see him turn back.... that beautiful face has gone +over the hill." A youth tells all his story in these few words: "As I +passed over the mountain-crest thy beautiful name came into my mind; I +fell upon my knees and I joined my hands, and to have left thee seemed +a sin. I fell upon my knees on the hard stones; may our love come back +as of yore!" These are pure love-songs; not by any means descriptions +of scenery, and yet how much of the Tuscan landscape lives in them! + +Almost the only folk-song which is avowedly descriptive of a mountain, +comes from South Greenland:-- + + The great Koonak Mount yonder south I do behold it. The great + Koonak Mount yonder south I regard it. The shining brightness + yonder south I contemplate. Outside of Koonak it is expanding; + the same that Koonak towards the sea-side doth encompass. + Behold how yonder south they tend to beautify each other; + while from the sea-side it is enveloped in sheets still + changing; from the sea-side it is enveloped to mutual + embellishment. + +At the first reading all this may seem incoherent; at the second or +third we begin to see the scene gradually rising before us; the masses +of sea-born cloud sweeping on and up at dawn or sunset, till, finding +their passage barred, they enwrap the obstacle in folds of golden +vapour. It is singular that the Eskimo is incessantly gazing +southwards; can it be that he, too, is dimly sensible of what a great +writer has called "_la fatigue du Nord_"? + +Incidental mention of the varying aspects of peak and upland is common +enough in popular songs. The Bavarian peasant notices the clearness of +the heights while mist hangs over the valley:-- + + Im Thal ist der Nebel + Auf der Alm is schon klar ... + +The Basque observes the "misty summits;" the Greek sees the cloud +hurrying to the heights "like winged messengers." There is the closest +intimacy between the Greek and his mountains. When he has won a +victory for freedom, they cry aloud, "God is great!" When he is in +sorrow he pines for them as for the society of friends: "Why am I not +near the hills? Why have I not the mountains to keep me company?" A +sick Kleft cries to the birds, "Birds, shall I ever be cured? Birds, +shall I recover my strength?" To which the birds reply just as might +a fashionable physician who recommends his patient to try Pontresina: +"If thou wouldst be cured, if thou wouldst have thy wounds close up, +go thou to the heights of Olympus, to the beautiful uplands where the +strong man never suffers, where the suffering regain their strength." +This fine figure of speech also occurs in a Kleft song: "The plains +thirst for water, the mountains thirst for snow." + +The effect of light on his native ice-fields has not escaped the +Switzer: "The sun shines on the glacier, and in the heavens shine the +stars; O thou, my chiefest joy, how I love thee!" A Czech balladist +describes two chieftains travelling towards the sunrise, with +mountains to the right and to the left, on whose summit stands the +dawn. Again, he represents a band of warriors halting on the spurs of +the forest, while before them lies Prague, silent and asleep, with +the Veltava shrouded in morning mist; beyond, the mountains turn blue; +beyond the mountains the east is illuminated. In Bohemia mountains are +spoken of as blue or grey or shadowy; in Servia they are invariably +called green. Servians and Bulgarians cannot conceive a mountain that +is not a wood or a wood that is not a mountain; with them the two +words mean one and the same thing. The charm and beauty of the +combination of hill and forest are often dwelt upon in the Balkan +brigand songs; outlaws and their poets have been among the keenest +appreciators of nature. Who thinks of Robin Hood apart from the +greenwood tree? Who but has smelt the very fragrance of the woods as +he said over the lines?-- + + "In somer when the shawes be sheyn + And leves be large and long, + Hit is full merry in feyre foreste + To here the foulys song." + +The Sclav or semi-Sclav bandit has not got the high moral qualities of +our "most gentle theefe," but, like him, he has suffered the heat, the +cold, the hunger, the fatigue of a life in the good greenwood, +and, like him, he has tasted its joys. Take the ballad called the +"Wintering of the Heidukes." Three friends sit drinking together in +the mountains under the trees; they sip the ruddy wine, and discuss +what they shall do in the coming winter, when the leaves have fallen +and only the naked forest is left. Each decides where he will go, +and the last one says: "So soon as the sad winter is passed, when the +forest is clad again in leaves and the earth in grass and flowers, +when the birds sing in the bushes on the banks of the Save and the +wolves are heard in the hills--then shall we meet as to-day." Spring +returns, the forest is decked again with leaves, the black earth with +flowers and grass, the bird sings in the bush, the wolves howl on +the rocky heights; two of the friends meet at the trysting place--the +third comes not; he has been slain. This is only one _Pesma_ out of +a hundred in which the mountain background is faithfully sketched. +Sometimes the forest figures as a personage. The Balkan mountaineer +more than half believes that as he loves it, so does it love him. The +instinct which insists that "love exempteth nothing loved from love" +has been a great myth-germinator, and when myths die out, it still +finds some niche in the mind of man wherein to abide. It may seem +foolish when applied to inanimate objects; it must seem false in its +human application: but reasoning will not kill it. Is there some truth +unperceived behind the apparent fallacy? The Balkan brigand cares +little for such speculations; all that he tells us is that when he +speaks to the greenwood, it most surely answers him in a soft low +voice. The Bulgarian "Farewell of Liben the brave" is a good specimen +of the dialogues between the forest and its wild denizens. Standing +on the top of the Hodja Balkan, Liben cries aloud, "Forest, O green +forest, and ye cool waters! dost thou remember, O forest, how often +I have roamed about thee with my following of young comrades bearing +aloft my red banner?" Many are the mothers, the wives, and the little +orphans whom Liben has made desolate so that they curse him. Now must +he bid farewell to the mountain, for he is going home to his mother +who will affiance him to the daughter of the Pope Nicholas. "The +forest speaks to no one, yet to Liben she replies." Enough has he +roamed with his braves; enough has he borne his red banner along the +summit of the old mountain, and under fresh and tufted shade, and +over moist green moss. Many are the mothers, the wives, and the little +orphans, who curse the forest for his sake. Till now he has had the +old mountain for mother; for love, the greenwood clothed in tufted +foliage and freshened by the cool breeze. The grass was his bed, the +leaves of the trees his coverlet; his drink came from the pure brook, +for him the wood-birds sang. "Rejoice," sang the wood-birds, "for thee +the wood is gay; the mountain and the cool brook!" But now Liben bids +farewell to the forest; he is going home that his mother may affiance +and wed him to the daughter of the Pope Nicholas. + +Sea-views of the sea, rare in poetry of any sort, can scarcely be said +to exist in folk-poesy. Sailors' songs have generally not much to do +with the wonders of the deep; the larger part of them are known to be +picked up on land, and the few exceptions to the rule are mostly kept +from the ken of the outer and profane public. The Basque sailors have +certain songs of their own, but only a solitary fragment of one of +them has ever been set on record. Once when a Basque was asked to +repeat a song he had been heard singing, he quietly said that he only +taught it to those who sailed with him. The fragment just mentioned +speaks of the silver trumpet (the master's whistle?) sounding over +the waters at break of day, while the coast of Holland trembles in the +distance. The first glimpse of a level reach of land in the morning +haze could hardly be better described. + +The sea impresses the dwellers on its shores chiefly by its depth and +vastness. In folk-songs there is a frequent recurrence of phrases such +as "the waters of the sea are vast, you cannot discern the bottom" +(Basque); "High is the starry sky, profound the abyss of ocean" +(Russian). The Greek calls the sea wicked, and watches the whitening +waves which roll over drowned sailors. For the Southern Sclav it is +simply a grey expanse. The Norseman calls it old, and blue--nature +having for him one sole chord of colour--blue sea, white sands and +snows, green pines. With Italian folk-singers it is a pretty point of +dispute whether the blue sea-and-sky colour is to be preferred to the +colour of the leaves and the grass. "Can you wear a lovelier hue than +azure?" asks one; "the waves of the sea are clothed therein and the +heavens when they are clear." The answer is that if the sky is clad in +a blue garment, green is the vesture of the earth, "E foro del verde +nasse ogni bel frutto." The arguments of the rival partisans remind +one of an amusing scene in a play of Calderon's; one character is made +to say, "Green is the earth's primal hue, the many-coloured flowers +are born out of a green cradle." "In short," says another, "it is a +mere earth-tint, while heaven is dressed in blue." "As to that," comes +the retort, "it is all an azure fiction; far to be preferred is the +veracious verdancy of the earth." + +The Italian folk-poets' "castle in the air" is a castle in the sea. +From Alp to Ætna the love-sick rhymers are fain to go and dwell with +their heart's adoration "in mezzo al mar." But though agreed on +the locality where they intend setting up in life, they differ +considerably as to the manner of "castle" to be inhabited. The +Sicilian, who makes a point of wishing for something worth having +while he is about it, will only be satisfied with a palace built of +peacock's plumes, a stair of gold, and a balcony inlaid with gems. A +more modest minstrel, from the hither side of the straits of Messina, +gives no thought at all to housekeeping; a little wave-lapped garden, +full of pretty flowers, is all his desire. The Italian folk-poet sets +afloat an astonishing number of things for no particular reason; one +has planted a pear-tree, a second has heard a little wood-lark, a +third has seen a green laurel, a fourth has found a small altar "in +the sea-midst," a fifth discovers his own name "scritto all 'onne de +lu mar." + +The Greek lover has no wish to leave the mainland, but he is fond of +picturing his beloved wandering by the shore at dawn to breathe the +morning air, or reclining on a little stone bench at the foot of a +hill, in the silence of solitude and the calm of the sea. For the +rest, he knows too well "the wicked sea" for it to suggest to him none +but pleasant images. If he is in despair, he likens himself to the +waves, which follow one another to their inevitable grave. If he grows +weary of waiting, he exclaims: "The sea darkens, the waves beat back +on the beach; ah! how long have I loved thee!" One or two specimens +have been already given of this particular kind of song; the +recollection of a passing moment in nature is placed text-wise to a +cry of human pain or love. A happy lover remembers in his transport +the glacier glistening in the sunshine; he who languishes from the +sickness of hope deferred, sees an affinity to his own mood in the +lowering storm. + +In the South, light is loved for its own sake. "Il lume è mezza +compagnia," runs a Tuscan proverb: "Light is half company." In a +memorable passage, St Augustine unfolds and elaborates the same idea +of the companionship of light. A Tuscan countryman vows that if his +love to fly from him becomes the light, he, to be near her, will +become a butterfly. Perhaps so radiant an hyperbole would only have +occurred to one who had grown up in the air of the Tuscan hills; the +air to whose purity Michael Angelo ascribed all that his mind was +worth. Anyway, a keen poetic sensibility is argued by the mere fact of +thus joining, in a symbol of the indivisible, the least earth-clogged +of sentient things with the most impersonal of natural phenomena. It +is the more remarkable because, generally speaking, butterflies do +not attract the notice of the unlettered people, even as they did not +attract the notice of the objective and practical Greeks. It may be +that were spirits to be seen flitting noiselessly about the haunts +of men, they would, in time, be equally disregarded. To so few has it +happened to know a butterfly, to watch closely its living beauty, +to feel day by day the light feet or fluttering wings upon the hands +which minister to its unsubstantial wants. Butterflies, to most of us, +are but ethereal strangers; so by the masses they are not valued--at +least, not in Europe. A tribe of West African negroes have this +beautiful saying: "The Butterfly praises God within and without." + +The folk-poet lives out of doors; he is acquainted with the home life +of the sun and stars, and day-break is his daily luxury. The Eskimo +tell a story of a stay-at-home man who dwelt in an island near the +coast of East Greenland. It was his chief joy to see the sun rising +in the morning, out of the sea, and with that he was content. But when +his son had come to years of discretion, he persuaded his father to +set out in a boat, so that he might see a little of the world. The +man started from the island; no sooner, however, had he passed Cape +Farewell than he saw the sun beginning to rise behind the land. It +was more than he could bear; and he set off at once for his home. Next +morning very early he went out of his tent; he did not come back. When +he was sought after, he was found quite dead. The joy of seeing the +sun rising again out of the sea had killed him. Most likely the story +is based on a real incident. The Aztec goes out upon his roof to see +the sunrise; it is his one religious observance. But of the cult of +the sun I must not begin to speak. It belongs to an immense subject +that cannot be touched here: the wide range of the unconscious +appreciation of nature which was worship. + +There is nothing more graceful in all folk-poesy than a little Czech +star-poem:-- + + Star, pale star, + Didst thou know love, + Hadst thou a heart, my golden star, + Thou wouldst weep sparks. + +Further north men do not willingly stay out abroad at night, but those +whose calling obliges them to do so are looked upon as wise in strange +lore. The first tidings of war coming reached the Esthonian shepherd +boy, the keeper of the lambs, "who knew the sun, and knew the moon, +and knew the stars in the sky." In Neo-Sanskrit speaking Lithuania +there abound star-legends which differ from the southern tales of the +same order, by reason of the pagan good faith that clings to them, +The Italian is aware that he is romancing when he speaks of the moon +travelling through the night to meet the morning star, or when he +describes her anger at the loss of one of her stars; the Lithuanian +has a suspicion that there may be a good deal of truth in his poets' +account of the sun's domestic arrangements--how the morning star +lights the fire for him to get up by, and the evening star makes his +bed. He will tell you that once there was a time when sun and moon +journeyed together, but the moon fell in love with the morning star, +which brought about sad mischief. "The moon went with the sun in the +early spring; the sun got up early; the moon went away from him. The +moon walked alone, fell in love with the morning star. Perkun, greatly +angered, stabbed her with a sword. 'Why wentest thou away from the +sun? Why walk alone in the night? Why fall in love with the morning +star? Your heart is full of sorrow.'" The Lithuanians have not wholly +left that stage in man's development when what is imagined seems +_primâ facie_ quite as likely to be real as what is seen. The +supernatural does not strike them as either mysterious or terrifying. +It is otherwise with the Teuton. His night phantasms treat of what is, +to man, of all things the most genuinely alarming--his own shadow. +Ghosts, wild huntsmen, erl-kings take the place of an innocuous +un-mortal race. No starry radiance can rob the night of its terrors. +"The stars shine in the sky, bright shine the rays of the moon, fast +ride the dead." Such is the wailing burden to the ballad which Burgher +imitated in his _Lenore_. There is a wide gulf between this and the +tender star-idylls of Lithuania, and a gulf still wider divides it +from the neighbourly familiarity with which the southerner addresses +the heavenly bodies. We go from one world to another when we turn back +to Italy and hear the country lads singing, "La buona sera, O stella +mattutina!" "Good evening to you, O matutinal star." + +The West African negroes call the sky the king of sheds, and the sun +the king of torches; the twinkling stars are the little chickens, and +the meteor is the thief-star. "When day dawns, you rejoice," say +the Yorubas; "do you not know that the day of death is so much the +nearer?" The same tribe give this vivid description of a day-break +scene: "The trader betakes himself to his trade, the spinner takes his +distaff, the warrior takes his shield, the weaver bends over his sley, +the farmer awakes, he and his hoe-handle, the hunter awakes, with his +quiver and bow." Thoughtless of toil, the Tuscan joyfully cries, "Dawn +is about to appear, bells chime, windows open, heaven and earth sing." +The Greek holds that he who has not journeyed with the moon by night, +or at dawn with the dew, has not tasted the world. Folk-poets have +widely recognised the mysterious confusion between summer nights and +days. The dispute at Juliet's window is recalled by the Venetian's +chiding of the "Rondinella Traditora;" by the Berry peasants' vexation +at the "vilaine alouette;" by the reproach of the Navarrese lover, +"You say it is day, it is not yet midnight;" and most of all by the +Servian dialogue: "Dawn whitens, the cock crows: It is not the dawn, +but the moon. The cows low round the house: It is not the cows, it is +the call to prayer. The Turks call to the mosque: It is not the Turks, +it is the wolves." The observation of the swallow's morning song is +another point at which the master poet and the obscure folk-singer +meet. This time both are natives of sunny lands; there is a clear +reason why it should be so--in the north the swallow passes almost +for a dumb bird. Very rarely in England do we hear her notes, soft yet +penetrating, like the high-pitched whisper of the Æolian harp. Some +of us may, indeed, have first got acquainted with them in Dante's +beautiful lines:-- + + Nell' ora che comincia i tristi lai + La Rondinella presso alia mattina ... + +Little suspecting that he is committing the sin of plagiarism, +the Greek begins one of his songs, "In the hour when the swallows, +twittering, awake the dawn." + +The ancient swallow myth does not seem to have anywhere crept into +folk-lore; nor is there much trace of the old Scandinavian delusion +that swallows spent the winter under the ice on lakes, or hanging up +in caves like bunches of grapes. The swallow is taken simply as +the typical bird of passage, the spring-bringer, the messenger, +the traveller _outre mer_. She is the picked bird of countries, the +African explorer, the Indian pioneer. A Servian story reports of +her in the latter capacity. The small-leafed Sweet Basil complains, +"Silent dew, why fallest thou not on me?" "For two mornings," answers +the dew, "I fell on thee; this morning I amused myself by watching a +great marvel. A vila (a mountain spirit) quarrelled with an eagle over +yonder mountain. Said the vila, 'The mountain is mine.' 'No,' said the +eagle, 'it is mine.' The vila broke the eagle's wing, and the young +eaglets moaned bitterly, for great was their peril. Then a swallow +comforted them: 'Make no moan, young eaglets, I will carry you to the +land of Ind, where the amaranth grows up to the horses' knees, where +the clover reaches their shoulders, where the sun never sets.'" How, +it may be asked, did the poet come by that notion of an Asiatic Eden? +The folk-singer seldom paints foreign scenery in these glowing tints. +There may be something of a south-ward longing in the boast-- + + I'll show ye how the lilies grow + On the banks o' Italie. + +But this is cold and colourless beside the empire of the unsetting +sun. + +Next to the swallow, the grey gull has the reputation of being the +greatest traveller. Till lately the women of Croisic met on Assumption +Day and sang a song to the gulls, imploring them to bring back their +husbands and their lovers who were out at sea. Larks are often chosen +as letter-carriers for short distances. The Greek knows that it is +spring when pair by pair the turtle-doves swoop down to the brooks. He +is an accurate observer; in April or May any retired English pool will +be found flecked over with the down of the wood-pigeons that come +to drink and bathe in it. The cooing of doves is by general consent +associated with constancy and requited love. It is not always, +however, that nations are agreed as to the sense of a bird's song. The +"merrie cuckoo" is supposed by the Sclavs to be rehearsing an endless +dirge for a murdered brother. A Czech poet lays down yet another cause +for its conjectured melancholy: "Perched upon an oak tree, a cuckoo +weeps because it is not always spring. How could the rye ripen in the +fields if it were always spring? How could the apples ripen in the +orchard if it were always summer? How could the corn harden in the +rick if it were always autumn?" In spite of the sagacious content +shown by these inquiries, it is probable that the sadness which the +Sclav attributes to the cuckoo-cry is but an echo of the sadness, deep +and wide, of his own race. + +Of the nightingale the Tuscan sings, in the spirit of one greater than +he,-- + + Vedete là quel rusignol che canta + Col suo bel canto lamentar si vuole,-- + +which is not, by the by, his only Miltonic inspiration; there is a +rustling of Vallombrosian leaves through the couplet, composed perhaps +in Vallombrosia: + + E quante primavera foglie adorna + Che sì vaga e gentile a noi ritorna. + +The Bulgarian sees a mountain _trembling_ to the song of three +nightingales. Like his Servian neighbours, he must always have a +story, and here is his nightingale story. Marika went into the garden; +she passed the pomegranate-tree and the apple-tree, and sat her down +under the red rose-tree to embroider a white handkerchief. In the +rose-tree was a nightingale, and the nightingale said: "Let us sing, +Marika; if you sing better than I, you shall cut off my wings at the +shoulders and my feet at the knee; if I sing better than you, I will +cut off your hair at the roots." They sang for two days, for three +days; Marika sang the best. Then the nightingale pleaded, "Marika, +fair young girl, do not cut off my feet, let me keep my wings, for I +have three little nightingales to rear, and of one of them I will make +you a gift." "Nightingale, sweet singer," said Marika, "I will give +thee grace of thy wings, and even of thy feet; go, tend thy little +ones, make me a gift of one to lull me to sleep, and of one to awake +me." + +We may take leave of bird-lays with the pretty old Bourbonnaise +_chanson_:-- + + Derrier' chez nous, il y a-t-un vert bocage, + Le rossignol y chant' tous les jours; + Là il y dit en son charmant langage: + Les amoreux sont malheureux toujours! + +Flowers, the green leaves and the grass, are suggestive of two kinds +of pathos. The individual flower, the grass or leaf of any one day +or spring-tide, becomes the type of the transitoriness of beauty and +youth and life. "Sing whilst ye are young and fair, soon you will be +slighted, as are sere lilies," is the song even of happy Tuscany. To +the Sclav it seems a question whether it be worth while that there +should be any flowers or morning gladness, since they must be gone +so soon. "O my garden," sings the Ruthenian, "O my little garden, my +garden and my green vine, why bloomest thou in the morning? Hardly +bloomed, thou art withered, and the earth is strewn with thy leaves." +The other kind of pathos springs from a deeper well. Man passes by, +each one hurries to his tragedy; Nature smiles tranquilly on. This +moving force of contrast was known to Lywarch Hen, and to those Keltic +bards who dived so deep into Nature's secrets that scarcely a +greater depth has been fathomed by any after-comers. It was perceived +involuntarily by the English ballad-singers, who strung a burden of +"Fine flowers" upon a tale of infanticide, and bade blackbird and +mavis sing their sweetest between a murder and an execution. And it is +this that gives its key-note to an Armenian popular song of singular +power. A bishop tells how he has made himself a vineyard; he has +brought stones from the valleys and raised a wall around it; he has +planted young vines and plentifully has he watered their roots. Every +morning the nightingale sings sweetly to the rose. Every morning +Gabriel says to his soul: "Rise and come forth from this vineyard, +from this newly-built vineyard." He has not eaten the fruit of the +vine; he has built a wine-vat, but the wine he has not tasted; he has +brought cool streams from the hills, but he has not drunk the water +thereof; he has planted red and white roses, but he has not smelt +their fragrance. The turtle-dove sings to the birds, and the spring is +come. Gabriel calls to his soul, the light of his eyes grows dim; "It +is time I leave my vineyard, my beautiful vineyard." There is hardly +another poem treating of death which is so un-illuminated by one ray +from a future dawn. + +In the great mass of folk-songs flowers are dealt with simply as the +accessories to all beautiful things. The folk-poet learns from them +his alphabet of beauty. Go into any English cornfield after harvest; +whilst the elder children glean wheat ears, the children of two +and three years glean small yellow hearts-eases, vervaine, and blue +scabious. They are as surely learning to distinguish the Beautiful +as the student in the courts of the Vatican. Through life, when these +children think of a beautiful thing, the thought of a flower will not +be far off. Religion and love, after all the two chief embellishments +of the life of the poor, have been hung about with flowers from the +past of Persephone and Freya till to-day. Even in England the common +people are glad if they can find a lily of the valley to carry to +church at Whitsuntide, and the first sign that a country girl has +got a sweetheart is often to be read in the transformation of the +garden-plot before her door. In Italy you will not walk far among the +vineyards and maize-fields without coming upon a shrine which bears +traces of floral decoration. Some Italian villages and country towns +have their special flower festival, or _Infiorata_; Genzano, for +instance, where, on the eighth day after Corpus Domini, innumerable +flowers are stripped of their petals, which are sorted out according +to colour and then arranged in patterns on the way to the church, +the magnificence of the effect going far to make one condone the +heartlessness of immolating so many victims to achieve an hour's +triumph. A charge of stupid indifference to beauty has been brought +against the Italian peasant--it would seem partly on the score that he +has been known to root up his anemones in order to put a stop to the +inroads of foreign marauders. There are certain persons, law-abiding +in the land which gave them birth, who when abroad, adopt the ethics +of our tribal ancestors. A piece of ground, a tree, or a plant not +enclosed by a wall, is turned by this strange public to its own uses. +A walnut tree by the wayside has a stick thrown among its branches +to fetch down the walnuts. The peasant does what he can to protect +himself. He observes that flowers attract trespassers, and so he roots +up the flowers. There are Italian folk-songs which show a delight in +flowers not to be surpassed anywhere. Flower-loving beyond all the +rest are the Tuscan poets, whose love-lyrics have been truly described +as "tutti seminati di fiori"--all sown with lilies, clove pinks, and +jessamine. The fact fits in pleasantly with the legend of the first +Florentines, who are said to have called their city after "the great +basket of flowers" in which it was built. It fits in, too, with the +sentiment attached even now to the very name of Florence. The old +_Floraja_ in the overgrown straw hat at the railway station can +reckon on something more abiding than her long-lost charms to find her +patrons; and it is curious to note how few of the passengers reject +the proffered emblems of the flower town, or fail to earn the parting +wish "Felice ritorno!" + +One point may be granted; in Italy and elsewhere the common people do +not highly or permanently value scentless flowers. A flower without +fragrance is to them almost a dead flower. I put the question to a +troop of English children coming from a wood laden with spoils, "What +makes you like primroses?" "The scent of them," was the answer. A +little further along the lane came another troop, and the question was +repeated. This time the answer was, "Because they smell so nice." +No flower has been more widely reverenced than the unassuming sweet +basil, the _Basilica odorato_ of Sicilian songs, the Tulasi plant of +India, where it is well-nigh worshipped in the house of every pious +Hindu. The scale is graduated thus: the flower which has no smell is +plucked in play, but left remorselessly to wither as children leave +their daisy chains; the flower which has a purely sweet and fresh +perfume is arranged in nosegays, set in water, praised and enjoyed +for the day; the flower which has a scent of spice and incense and +aromatic gums bears off honours scarcely less than divine. + +The folk-poet sings because heaven has given him a sweet voice and a +fair mistress; because the earth brings forth her increase and the sun +shines, and the spring comes back, and rest at noontide and at evening +is lovely, and work in the oil-mill and in the vineyard is lovely too: +he sings to embellish his labour and to enhance his repose. He lives +on the shield of Achilles, singing, accompanied by a viol, to the +grape-pickers; he is crowned with flowers in the golden age of +Lucretius as he raises his sweet song at the _festa_. We have seen a +little of what he says about Nature, but, in truth, he is still +her interpreter when he says nothing. All folk-poesy is sung and +folk-songs are as much one of Nature's voices as the song of the +birds, the song of the brooks, the song of the wind in the pine-tops. +So it is likewise with the rude musical instruments which the +exigencies of his life have taught the peasant how to make; they utter +tones more closely in harmony with nature than those of the finest +Stradivarius. The Greeks were right when they made Pan with his +reed-pipe rather than Apollo with his lyre the typical Nature-god. +Anyone to whom it has chanced to hear a folk-song sung in its own home +will understand what is meant. You may travel a good deal and not have +that chance. The songs, the customs, the traditions of the people form +an arcanum of which they are not always ready to lift the veil. To +those, of course, whose lives are cast among a people that still +sings, the opportunity comes oftener. But if the song be sung +consciously for your pleasure its soul will hardly remain in it. I +shall always vividly remember two occasions of hearing a folk-song +sung. Once, long ago, on the Bidassoa. The day was closing in; the +bell was tolling in the little chapel on the heathery mountain-side, +where mass is said for the peace of the brave men who fell there. +Fontarabia stood bathed in orange light. It was low water, and the +boat got almost stranded; then the boatmen, an older and a younger +man, both built like athletes, began to sing in low, wild snatches +for the tide. Once, not very long since, at the marble quarry of Sant' +Ambrogio. Here also it was towards evening and in the autumn. The +vintage was half over; all day the sweet "Prenda! Prenda!" of the +grape-gatherers had invited the stranger to share in its purple +magnificence. The blue of the more distant Veronese hills deepened +against a coralline sky; not a dark thing was in sight except here or +there the silhouette of a cypress. Only a few workmen were employed in +the quarry; one, a tall, slight lad, sang in the intervals from labour +an air full of passion and tenderness. The marble amphitheatre +gave sonority to his high voice. Each time Nature would have seemed +incomplete had it lacked the human song. + + + + +ARMENIAN FOLK-SONGS. + + +Obscure in their origin, and for the most part having at first had no +such auxiliary as written record to aid their preservation, the single +fact of the existence of folk-songs may in general suffice to proclaim +them the true articulate voice of some sentiment or feeling, common to +the large bulk of the people whence they emanate. It is plain that the +fittest only can survive--only such as are truly germane to those who +say or sing them. A herdsman or tiller of the soil strings together +a few verses embodying some simple thought which came into his head +whilst he looked at the green fields or the blue skies, or it may +be as he acted in a humble way as village poet-laureate. One or two +friends get them by heart, and possibly sing them at the fair in +the next hamlet: if they hit, others catch them up, and so the song +travels for miles and miles, and may live out generations. If not, the +effusion of our poetical cowherd dies away quite silently--not much to +his distress, for had its fate been more propitious its author would +probably have been very little the wiser. One celebrated poet, and I +think but one, has in our own times begun his career in like manner +with the unknown folk-singer. The songs of Sandor Petöfi were popular +over the breadth of the Hungarian Puszta before ever they appeared in +print; and those who know him, know how faithfully he breathes forth +the soul of the Magyar race. In a certain sense it is true that every +real poet is the spokesman of his people. No two works, for instance, +are so characteristic of their respective countries as the _Divina +Commedia_ and _Faust_. Still, the hands of genius idealise what they +touch; the great poet personifies rather than reflects his people, +and if he serves them as representative, it is in an august, imperial +fashion within the Senate House of Fame, outside whose doors the +multitude hustles and seethes. When we want to see this multitude as +in a mirror, to judge its common instincts and impulses that go very +far to cast the nation in the type which makes it what it is, it is a +safer and surer plan to search out its own spontaneous and untutored +songs than to consult the master work attached to immortal names. + +How far the individuality of a race is decided or modified by +the natural phenomena in which it is placed is a nice point for +discussion, and one not to be disposed of by off-hand generalities. +In what consists the sympathetic link, sometimes weak and scarcely +perceptible, at others visibly strong, between man and nature? +Why does the emigrated mountaineer, settled in comfort, ease, +and prosperity in some great metropolis, wake up one day with the +knowledge that he must begone to the wooden chalet with the threat of +the avalanche above and the menace of the flood below--or he must die? +Is it force of early association, habit, or fancy? Why is the wearied +town-tied brain-worker sensible of a nostalgia hardly less poignant +when he calls to mind how the fires of day kindled across some scene +of snow or sea with which his eyes were once familiar? Is it nothing +more than the return of a long ago experienced admiration? I think +that neither physicist nor psychologist--and both have a right to be +heard in the matter--would answer that the cause of these sensations +was to be thus shortly defined. Again ask the artist what the Athenian +owed to the purity and proportion of the lines of Grecian landscape, +what the Italian stole from the glow and glory of meridional light +and colour--what the Teuton learnt from the ascending spires of Alpine +ice? Was it that they saw and copied? Or rather, that Nature's spirit, +vibrating through the pulses of their being, moulded into form the +half-divine visions of master-sculptor, painter, architect? + +It does not, however, require to go deeper than the surface of +things in order to understand that a peoples' songs must be largely +influenced by the accidents of natural phenomena, and especially where +climate and physical conformation are such as must perforce stir and +stimulate the imaginative faculties of the masses. We have an instance +to the point in the ballads of the "mountainous island" bounded by +seas and plains, which the natives call Hayasdan and we Armenia. The +wondering emotion aroused by a first descent from the Alps into Italy +is well known; to not a few of the mightiest of northern poets this +journey has acted like a charm, a revelation, an awakening to +fuller consciousness. In Armenia, the incantation of a like natural +antithesis is worked by the advent of its every returning spring: a +sluggard of a season that sleeps on soundly till near midsummer, but +comes forth at last fully clothed in the gorgeous raiment of a king. +In days gone by the Armenian spring was dedicated to the goddess +Anahid, and as it broke over the land the whole people joined in +joyful celebration of the feast of Varthavar or "Rose-blossoms," +which since Christian times has been transformed into the three days' +festival of the Transfiguration. Beautiful is the face of the country +when the tardy sun begins to make up for lost time, as though his very +life depended on it; shooting down his beams with fiery force through +the rarefied ether, melting away the snows, and ripening all at once +the grain and grapes, the wild fig, apricot and olive, mulberry and +pomegranate. What wonder that the Armenian loves the revivifying lamp +of day, that he turns the dying man towards it, and will not willingly +commit his dead to the earth if some bright rays do not fall into the +open grave! At the sun's reveille there is a general resurrection of +all the buried winter population--women and children, cows and sheep, +pink-eyed lemmings, black-eyed caraguz, and little kangaroo-shaped +jerboas. Out, too, from their winter lairs come wolf and bear, hyena +and tiger, leopard and wild boar. The stork returns to his nest on the +broad chimney-pot, and this is what the peasant tells him of all that +has happened in his absence: + + Welcome, Stork! + Thou Stork, welcome; + Thou hast brought us the sign of spring, + Thou hast made our heart gay. + Descend, O Stork! + Descend, O Stork, upon our roof, + Make thy nest upon our ash-tree. + I will tell thee my thousand sorrows, + The sorrows of my heart, the thousand sorrows, + Stork, when thou didst go away, + When thou didst go away from our tree, + Withering winds did blow, + They dried up our smiling flowers. + The brilliant sky was obscured, + That brilliant sky was cloudy: + From above they were breaking the snow in pieces: + Winter approached, the destroyer of flowers. + Beginning from the rock of Varac, + Beginning from that rock of Varac, + The snow descended and covered all; + In our green meadow it was cold. + Stork, our little garden, + Our little garden was surrounded with snow; + Our green rose trees + Withered with the snow and the cold. + +But now the rose trees in the garden are green again, and out abroad +wild flowers enamel the earth. Down pour the torrents of melted snow +off Mount Ararat, down crash the avalanches of ice and stones +let loose by the sun's might; wherever an inch of soil or rock is +uncovered it becomes a carpet of blossom. High up, even to 13,000 feet +above the sea-level, the deep violet aster, the saxifrage, and crocus, +and ranunculus, and all our old Alpine acquaintances, form a dainty +morsel for the teeth, or a carpet for the foot, of swift capricorn +or not less agile wild sheep. A little lower, amidst patches of yet +frozen snow, hyacinths scent the air, yellow squills and blue anemones +peep out, clumps of golden iris cluster between the rocks. There, too, +is the "Fountain's Blood," or "Blood of the Seven Brothers," as the +Turk would say, with its crimson, leafless stalk and lily-like bloom, +the reddest of all red flowers. Upon the trees comes the sweet white +_kasbé_, a kind of manna much relished by the inhabitants. Amongst the +grass grow the Stars of Bethlehem, to remind us, as tradition has it, +that hard by on Ararat--beyond question the great centre of Chaldean +Star-worship--the wise men were appointed to watch for the appearance +of a sign in the heavens, and that thence they started in quest of +the place "where the young child lay." Tulips also abound; if we +may credit the legend, they had their origin in the Armenian town +of Erzeroom, springing from the life-blood of Ferdad when he threw +himself from the rocks in despair at a false alarm of the death of his +beloved Shireen. + +Erzeroom is by common consent in these parts the very site of the +Garden of Eden. For many centuries, affirms the Moslem, the flowers +of Paradise might yet be seen blossoming round the source of the +Euphrates not far from the town. But, alas! when the great Persian +King Khosref Purveez, the rival of the above-mentioned Ferdad, was +encamped in that neighbourhood, he was rash enough to spurn a message +from the young Prophet Mohammed, offering him protection if he +would embrace the faith of Islâm. What booted the protection of an +insignificant sectary to him? thought the Shah-in-Shah, and tossed the +letter into the Euphrates. But Nature, horrified at the sacrilegious +deed, dried up her flowers and fruits, and even parched the sources +of the river itself; the last relic of Eden became a waste. There is a +plaintive Armenian elegy composed in the person of Adam sitting at +the gate of Paradise, and beholding Cherubim and Seraphim entering the +Garden of which he once was king, "yea, like unto a powerful king!" +The poet puts into Adam's mouth a new line of defence; he did not eat +of the fruit, he says, until after he had witnessed its fatal effects +upon Eve, when, seeing her despoiled of all her glory, he was touched +with pity, and tasted the immortal fruit in the hope that the Creator +contemplating them both in the same wretched plight might with +paternal love take compassion on both. But vain was the hope; "the +Lord cursed the serpent and Eve, and I was enslaved between them." "O +Seraphim!" cries the exiled father of mankind: + + When ye enter Eden, shut not the gate of Paradise; place me + standing at the gate; I will look in a moment, and then bring + me back. + + Ah! I remember ye, O flowers and sweet-swelling fountains. Ah! + I remember ye O birds, sweet-singing--and ye, O beasts: + + Ye who enjoy Paradise, come and weep over your king; ye who + are in Paradise planted by God, elected from the earth of + every kind and sort. + +High above the hardiest saxifrage tower the three thousand feet of +everlasting snows that crown Mount Ararat. The Armenians call it +Massis or "Mother of the World," and old geographers held that it was +the centre of the earth, an hypothesis supported by various ingenious +calculations. The Persians have their own set of legends about it; +they say that Ararat was the cradle of the human race, and that at one +time it afforded pasture up to the apex of its dome; but upon man's +expulsion from Eden, Ahriman the serpent doomed the whole country to +a ten months' winter. As to the semi-scriptural traditions gathered +round the mountain, there is no end to them. "And the ark rested +in the seventh month, on the seventeenth day of the month, upon the +mountains of Ararat," so says the Bible, and it is an article of faith +with the Armenian peasant that it is still somewhere up at the top, +only not visible. He is extremely loth to believe that anybody has +actually attained the summit. Parrot's famous ascent was long regarded +as the merest fable. At the foot of Ararat was a village named +Argoory, or "he planted the vine," where Noah's vineyard is pointed +out to this day, though the village itself was destroyed in 1840, when +the mountain woke up from its long slumbers and rolled down its side a +stream of boiling lava; but we are told that, owing to the sins of the +world, the vines no longer bear fruit. Close at hand is Manard, "the +mother lies here," alluding to the burial-place of Noah's wife, and +yonder is Eravan or "Visible," the first dry land which Noah perceived +as the waters receded. Armenian choniclers relate that when after +leaving the ark the descendants of Noah dispersed to different +quarters, one amongst them, by name Haig, the great-grandson of +Japhet, settled with his family in Mesopotamia, where he probably took +part in the building of the Tower of Babel. Later, however, upon Belus +acquiring dominion over the land, Haig found his rule so irksome to +himself and his clan that they migrated back in a body of 300 persons +to Armenia, much to the displeasure of Belus, who summoned them to +return, and when they refused, despatched a large army to coerce them +into obedience. Haig collected his men on the shores of Van, and thus +sagaciously addressed them: + + When we meet with the army of Belus, let us attempt to draw + near where he lies surrounded by his warriors; either we shall + be killed, and our camp equipments and baggage will fall into + his hands, or, making a show of the strength of our arm, we + shall defeat his army, and victory will be ours. + +These tactics proved completely successful, and Belus fell mortally +wounded by an arrow from Haig's bow. Having in this way disposed of +his enemies, the patriarch was able before he died to consolidate +Hayasdan into a goodly kingdom, which he left to the authority of his +son Armenag. + +After the reign of Haig the thread of Armenian annals continues +without break or hitch; it must be admitted that no people, not even +the Jews, boast a history which "begins with the beginning" in a more +thorough way, nor does the work of any chronicler proceed in a more +methodical and circumstantial manner than that of Moses of Khoren, the +Herodotus of Armenia. As is well known, Moses, writing in the fifth +century, founded his chronicle upon a work undertaken about five +hundred years before by one Marabas Cattina, a Syrian, at the request +of the great Armenian monarch Vagshaishag. Marabas stated that his +record was based upon a manuscript he had discovered in the archives +of Nineveh which bore the indorsement, "This book, containing the +annals of ancient history, was translated from the Chaldean into +Greek, by order of Alexander the Great." Whatever may be the precise +amount of credence to which the Chronicle of Moses is entitled, +all will agree that it narrates the story of a high-spirited and +intelligent people whom the alternating domination of Greek and +Persian could not cower into relinquishing the substance of their +liberties, and whose efforts, in the main successful, on behalf of +their cherished independence, were never more vigorous than at times +when their triumph seemed farthest off. For nearly a thousand years +after the date of Moses of Khoren, his people maintained their +autonomy, and whether we look before or after the flight of the last +Armenian king before the soldiers of the Crescent, we must acknowledge +that few nations have fought more valiantly for their political +rights, whilst yet fewer have suffered more severely for their +fidelity to their faith. It is the pride of the Armenians that theirs +was the first country which adopted the Christian religion; it may +well be their pride also, that they kept their Christianity in +the teeth of persecutions which can only find a parallel in those +undergone by the Hebrew race. + +Armenia is naturally rich in early Christian legends, of which the +most curious is perhaps that of the correspondence alleged to have +occurred between Our Lord and Abgar, king of Hayasdan. The latter, +it is said, having sent messengers to transact some business with the +Roman generals quartered in Palestine, received on their return such +accounts of the miracles performed by Jesus of Nazareth as convinced +him either that Christ was God come down upon the earth, or that +he was the son of God. Suffering from a grave malady, and hearing, +moreover, that the Jews had set their hearts on doing despite to the +Prophet who had risen in their midst, Abgar wrote a letter beseeching +Christ to come to his capital and cure him of his sickness. "My city +is indeed small," this letter naïvely concludes, "but it is sufficient +to contain us both." The king also sent a painter to Jerusalem, so +that if Our Lord could not come to Edessa he might at least possess +his portrait. The painter was one day endeavouring to fulfil his +mission when he was observed by Christ, who passing a handkerchief +over his face, gave it to the Armenian impressed with the likeness of +his features. The response to Abgar's letter was written by St Thomas, +who said, on behalf of his Divine Master, that his work lay elsewhere +than in Armenia, but that after his Ascension he would send an Apostle +to enlighten the people of that country. This correspondence, though +now not accepted as authentic out of Armenia, was mentioned by some +of the earliest Church historians, and it is asserted that one of the +letters has been found written on papyrus in an Egyptian tomb. + +Christianity seems to have made some way in Armenia in the second +century, but to what extent is unknown. What is certain is, that +in the third century, St Gregory the Illuminator, after having been +tortured in twelve different ways by King Tiridates for refusing +to worship the goddess Anahid, and kept at the bottom of a well for +fourteen years, was taken out of it in consequence of a vision of the +king's sister, and converted that monarch and all his subjects along +with him. St Gregory is held in boundless reverence by the Armenians; +he is almost looked upon as a divine viceroy, as will be seen from the +following canzonette which Armenian children are taught to sing: + + The light appears, the light appears! + The light is good: + The sparrow is on the tree, + The hen is on the perch, + The sleep of lazy men is a year, + Workman, rise and begin thy work! + The gates of heaven are opened, + The throne of gold is erected, + Christ is sitting on it; + The Illuminator is standing, + He has taken the golden pen, + He has written great and small. + Sinners are weeping, + The just are rejoicing. + +The poet of the people nowhere occupies himself with casting about for +a fine subject; he writes of what he feels and of what he sees. +The Armenian peasant sees the snow in winter; in summer he sees +the flowers and the birds--only birds and flowers are to him the +pleasanter sight, so he sings more about them. He rarely composes +any verse without a flower or a bird being mentioned in it; all his +similes are ornithological or botanical, and by them he expresses +the tenderest emotions of his heart. There is a pathos, a simplicity +really exquisite in the conception of some of these little +bird-and-flower pieces, as, for example, in the subjoined "Lament of a +Mother" over her dead babe: + + I gaze and weep, mother of my boy, + I say alas and woe is me wretched! + What will become of wretched me, + I have seen my golden son dead! + They seized that fragrant rose + Of my breast, and my soul fainted away; + They let my beautiful golden dove + Fly away, and my heart was wounded. + That falcon Death seized + My dear and sweet-voiced turtle dove and wounded me. + They took my sweet-toned little lark + And flew away through the skies! + Before my eyes they sent the hail + On my flowering green pomegranate, + My rosy apple on the tree, + Which gave fragrance among the leaves. + They shook my flourishing beautiful almond tree, + And left me without fruit; + Beating it they threw it on the ground + And trod it under foot into the earth of the grave. + What will become of wretched me! + Many sorrows surrounded me. + O, my God, receive the soul of my little one + And place him at rest in the bright heaven! + +The birds of Armenia are countless in their number and variety, from +vulture to wren; there are so many of them that a man (it is said +poetically) may ride for miles and miles and never see the ground, +which they entirely cover, except over the small space from which +they fly up with a deafening whizz to make a passage for his horse. At +times the plains have the appearance of being dyed rose-colour through +the swarms of the gorgeous red goose which congregate upon them, +whilst here and there a whitish spot is formed by a troop of his +grey-coated relatives. It seems that the Armenian has found out why +it was the wild goose and the tame one separated from each other. Once +upon a time, when all were wild and free, one goose said to another on +the eve of a journey, "Mind you are ready, my friend, for, Inshallah +(please God), I set out to-morrow morning." "And so will I," he +profanely replied, "whether it pleases God or not." Sure enough next +morning both geese were up betimes, and the religious one spread out +his wings and sailed off lightly towards the distant land. But, lo! +when the impious goose tried to do likewise, he flapped and flapped +and could not stir from the ground. So a countryman caught him, and he +and his children for ever fell into slavery. + +The partridge is a great favourite of the Armenian, who does not tire +of inventing lyrics in its honour. Here is a specimen: + + The sun beats from the mountain's top, + Pretty, pretty: + The partridge comes from her nest; + She was saluted by the flowers, + She flew and came from the mountain's top. + Ah! pretty, pretty, + Ah! dear little partridge! + + When I hear the voice of the partridge + I break my fast on the house-top: + The partridge comes chirping + And swinging from the mountain's side. + Ah! pretty, pretty, + Ah! dear little partridge! + + Thy nest is enamelled with flowers, + With basilico, narcissus, and water-lily: + Thy place is full of dew, + Thou delightest in the fragrant odour. + Ah! pretty, pretty, + Ah! dear little partridge! + + Thy feathers are soft, + Thy neck is long, thy beak little, + The colour of thy wing is variegated: + Thou art sweeter than the dove. + Ah! pretty, pretty, + Ah! dear little partridge! + + When the little partridge descends from the tree, + And with his sweet voice chirps, + He cheers all the world, + He draws the heart from the sea of blood. + Ah! pretty, pretty, + Ah! dear little partridge. + + All the birds call thee blessed, + They come with thee in flocks, + They come around thee chirping: + In truth there is not one like thee. + Ah! pretty, pretty, + Ah! beautiful little partridge! + +Another song gives the piteous plaint of an unhappy partridge who was +snared and eaten. "Like St Gregory, they let me down into a deep +well; then they took me up and sat round a table, and they cut me into +little pieces, like St James the Intercised." The crane, who, with +the stork, brings the promise of summer on his wing, receives a warm +welcome, and when the Armenian sees a crane in some foreign country he +will say to him:-- + + Crane, whence dost thou come? I am the servant of thy voice. + Crane, hast thou not news from our country? Hasten not to thy + flock; thou wilt arrive soon enough! Crane, hast thou not news + from our country? + + I have left my possessions and vineyard and come hither. How + often do I sigh; it seems that my soul is taken from me. + Crane, stay a little, thy voice is in my soul. Crane, hast + thou not news from our country? My God, I ask of thee grace + and favour, the heart of the pilgrim is wounded, his lungs are + consumed; the bread he eats is bitter, the water he drinks is + tasteless. Crane, hast thou not news from our country? + + Thou comest from Bagdad, and goest to the frontiers. I will + write a little letter and give it to thee. God will be the + witness over thee; thou wilt carry it and give it to my dear + ones. + + I have put in my letter that I am here, that I have never even + for a single day been happy. O, my dear ones, I am always + anxious for you! Crane, hast thou not news from our country? + + The autumn is near, and thou art ready to go: thou hast + joined a large flock: thou hast not answered me, and thou art + flown! Crane, go from our country and fly far away! + +The nameless author of these lines has had Dante's thought: + + Tu proverai sì come sa di sale + Lo pane altrui ... + +It is strange that the Armenians should be at once one of the most +scattered peoples on the face of the earth, and one of the most +passionately devoted to their fatherland. + +It should not be forgotten, when reading these Armenian bird-lays, +that an old belief yet survives in that country that the souls of the +blessed dead fly down from heaven, in the shape of beautiful birds, +and perching in the branches of the trees, look fondly at their dear +ones on earth as they pass beneath. When the peasant sees the birds +fluttering above overhead in the wood he will on no account molest +them, but says to his boy, "That is your dear mother, your little +brother, your sister--be a good child, or it will fly away and never +look at you again with its sweet little eyes." + +The clear cool streams and vast treacherous salt lakes of Armenia +are not without their laureates. Thus sings the bard of a mountain +rivulet: + + "Down from yon distant mountain + The water flows through the village, Ha! + A dark boy comes forth, + And washing his hands and face, + Washing, yes washing, + And turning to the water, asked, Ha! + Water, from what mountain dost thou come? + O my cool and sweet water! Ha! + I came from that mountain, + Where the old and new snow lie one on the other. + Water, to what river dost thou go? + O my cool and sweet water! Ha! + I go to that river + Where the bunches of violets abound. Ha! + Water, to what vineyard dost thou go? + O my cool and sweet water! Ha! + I go to that vineyard + Where the vine-dresser is within! Ha! + Water, what plant dost thou water? + O my cool and sweet water! Ha! + I water that plant + Whose roots give food to the lamb, + The roots give food to the lamb, + Where there are the apple tree and the anemone. + Water, to what garden dost thou go? + O my cool and sweet water! Ha! + I go into that garden + Where there is the sweet song of the nightingale! Ha! + Water, into what fountain dost thou go? + O my cool and sweet little water! + I go to that fountain + Where thy love comes and drinks. + I go to meet her and kiss her chin, + And satiate myself with her love. + +The dwellers on the shores of Van--the largest lake in Armenia, which +is situated between 5000 and 6000 feet above the sea, and covers more +than 400 square miles--are celebrated for possessing the poetic gift +in a pre-eminent degree. Their district is fertile and picturesque, +so picturesque that when Semiramis passed that way she employed 12,000 +workmen and 600 architects to build her a city on the banks of the +lake, which was named Aghthamar, and which she thereafter made her +summer residence. The business that brought Semiramis into Armenia +was a strange romance. Ara, eighth patriarch of Hayasdan, was famed +through all the East for his surpassing beauty, and the Assyrian queen +hearing that he was the fairest to look upon of all mortal men, sent +him a proposal of marriage; but he, staunch to the faith in the one +true God, which he believed had been transmitted to him from Noah, +would have nothing to say to the offer of the idolatrous ruler. +Semiramis, greatly incensed, advanced with her army into the heart of +Armenia, and defeated the forces of the Patriarch; but bitter were the +fruits of the victory, for Ara, instead of being taken alive, as +she had commanded, was struck down at the head of his men, and his +beautiful form, stiffened by death, was laid at the queen's feet. +Semiramis was plunged in the wildest despair; she endeavoured to bring +him to life by magic; that failing, she had his body embalmed and +placed in a golden coffin, which was set in her chamber; no one was +allowed to call him dead, and she spoke of him as her beloved consort. +A spot is pointed out to the traveller bearing the name of Ara Seni, +"Ara is sacrificed." + +The favourite theme of the men of Van is, of course, the treacherous +element on which the lot of most of them is cast. One of their songs +gives the legend of the "Old Man and the Ship." Our Lord, as an old +man with a white beard, cried sweetly to the sailors to take him into +the ship. The sailors answer that the ship is freighted by a merchant, +and the passage-money is great. "Go away, white-bearded old man," they +say. But our Lord pays the money and comes into the ship. Presently +a gale blows up and the sailors are exceeding wroth, for they imagine +the strange passenger has brought them ill-luck. They ask, "Whence +didst them come, O sinful man? Thou art lost, and thou hast lost us!" +"I a sinner!" replies the Lord, "give me the ship, and go you to sweet +sleep." He made the sign of the cross with his right hand, with his +left he steered the helm. It was not yet mid-day when the ship safely +reached the shore. + + Brothers, arise from your sweet sleep, from your sweet sleep + and your sad dreams. Fall at the feet of Jesus; here is our + Lord, here is our ship. + +"Sweet sleep and sad dreams"--he must have been a true poet who +thus crystallised the sense of poor humanity's unrest, even in its +profoundest repose. The whole little story strikes one as full of +delicate suggestiveness. + +One more sample of the style of the Armenian "Lake-school." + +ON ONE WHO WAS SHIPWRECKED ON THE LAKE OF VAN. + + We sailed in the ship from Aghthamar, + We directed our ship towards Avan; + When we arrived before Vosdan + We saw the dark sun of the dark day. + + Dull clouds covered the sky, + Obscuring at once stars and moon; + The winds blew fiercely, + And took from my eyes land and shore. + + Thundered the heaven, thundered the earth, + The waters of the blue sea arose; + On every side the heavens shot forth fire; + Black terror invaded my heart. + + There is the sky, but the earth is not seen, + There is the earth, but the sun is not seen; + The waves come like mountains + And open before me a deep abyss. + + O sea, if thou lovest thy God, + Have pity on me, forlorn and wretched; + Take not from me my sweet sun, + And betray me not to flinty-hearted Death. + + Pity, O sea, O terrible sea! + Give me not up to the cold winds; + My tears implore thee + And the thousand sorrows of my heart.... + + The savage sea has no pity! + It hears not the plaintive voice of my broken heart; + The blood freezes in my veins, + Black night descends upon my eyes.... + + Go tell to my mother + To sit and weep for her darkened son; + That John was the prey of the sea, + The sun of the young man is set! + +Summer, with its flowers, and warmth, and wealth, never stays long +enough in Armenia for it to become a common ordinary thing. It is a +beautiful wonder-time, a brief, splendid nature-fair, which vanishes +like a dream before the first astonishment and delight are worn into +indifference. The season when "the nightingale sings to the rose at +dewy dawn" departs swiftly, and envious winter strangles autumn in its +birth. + +What a winter, too! a winter which despotically governs the complete +economy of the people's system of life. Let us take a peep into an +Armenian interior on a December evening. Three months the snow has +been in possession of mountain and valley; for more than four months +more it will remain. Abroad it is light enough, though night has +fallen; for the moon shines down in wonderful brightness upon the +ice-bound earth. On the hill-slope various little unevennesses are +discernible, jutting out from the snow like mushrooms. In one part the +ground is cut away perpendicularly for a few feet; this is the front +of the homestead, the body of which lies burrowed in the slope of the +hill. When the house was made the floor was dug out some five feet +underground, while the ceiling beams rose three or four feet above it; +but all the dug-out soil was thrown about the roof and back and side +walls, and thus the whole is now embedded in the hillock. The roof was +neatly turfed over when the house was finished, so that in summer the +lambs and children play upon it, and not unfrequently, in the great +heats, the family sleep there--"at the moon's inn." What look like +mushrooms are in reality the broad-topped chimneys, on which the +summer storks build their nests. The homestead has but one entrance; +a large front door which leads through a long dark passage to a second +door that swings-to after you, and is hung with a rough red-dyed +sheepskin. This door opens upon the entrance-hall, whence you mount +half-a-dozen steps to a raised platform, under which the house dogs +are located. On two sides the platform is bounded by solid stone +walls, from which are suspended saddles, guns, pistols, and one or two +pictures representing the deeds of some Persian hero, and bought of +Persian hawkers. On the other two sides an open woodwork fence divides +it from a vast stable. Nearest the grating are fastened the horses +of the clan-chief; next are the donkeys, then the cows; sheep and +chickens find places where they can. The breath of these animals +materially contributes to the warmth of the house, which is at times +almost like an oven, even in the coldest weather. A clear hot fire +burns on the hearth; the fuel used is tezek, a preparation of cow-dung +pressed into a substance resembling peat turf. By day the habitation +is obscurely lighted through a small aperture in the roof glazed with +oiled silk, and supplemented by a sort of funnel, the wide opening +downwards. Now, in the evening, the oil burning in a simple iron lamp +over the hearth, affords a dim illumination. + +The platform above described is the salemlik, or hall of reception. It +contains no chairs, but divans richly draped with Koordish stuffs; the +floor is carpeted with tekeke, a kind of grey felt. To the right of +the hearth sits the head of the family, a venerable old man, whose +word is incontrovertible law to every member of his house. He is also +Al Sakal, or "white beard" of the village, a dignity conferred on +him by the unanimous voice of his neighbours, and constituting him +intermediary in all transactions with government. When important +matters are at stake, he meets the elders of the surrounding hamlets, +who, resolved into committee, form the Commune. This ancient usage +bears witness to the essentially patriarchal and democratic basis of +Armenian society. + +Our family party consists of three dozen persons, the representatives +of four generations. The young married women come in and out from +directing the preparations of the supper. Nothing is to be seen of +their faces except their lustrous eyes (Armenian eyes are famous for +their brilliancy), a tightly-fitting veil enclosing the rest of their +features. Without this covering they do not by any chance appear even +in the house; it is said they wear it also at night. One of them is +a bride; her dress is rich and striking--a close-fitting bodice, +fastening at the neck with silver clasps, full trousers of +rose-coloured silk gathered in at the ankles by a fillet of silver, +the feet bare, a silver girdle of curious workmanship loosely +encircling the waist, and a long padded garment open down the front +which hangs from the shoulders. Poor little bride! She has not uttered +a single word save when alone with her husband since she pronounced +the marriage vow. She may not hope to do so till after the birth of +her first-born child; then she will talk to her nursling, after a +while to her mother-in-law, sometime later she may converse with her +own mother, and by-and-by, in a subdued whisper, with the young girls +of the house. During the first year of her married life she may not +go out of the house except twice to church. Her disciplinary education +will not be complete for six years, after which she will enjoy +comparative liberty, but never in her life must she open her lips to +a person of the stronger sex not related to her. Turn from the silent +little bride to that bevy of young girls, merry and playful as the +kittens they are fondling--silky-haired snowballs, of a breed peculiar +to the neighbourhood of Van, their tails dyed pink with henna like the +tail of the Shah's steed. The girls are laughing and chatting together +without restraint--most probably about their love affairs, for they +are free to dispose of their hands as they choose. And they may walk +about unveiled, and show off their pretty faces and long raven plaits +to the fullest advantage. + +Suddenly a knocking is heard outside; the dogs yell from under the +platform; the Whitebeard says whoever be the wanderer he shall have +bed and board, and he orders fresh tezek to be thrown on the fire; for +to-night it is bitter cold out abroad--were a man to stand still five +minutes, he would freeze in his shoes. One of the sons descends the +steps, pushes aside the sheep-skin, and leads the traveller in. +This one says he is the minstrel. What joy in the family! The blind +minstrel, who will sing the most exciting ballads and tell the most +marvellous tales. He is welcomed by all; only the young bride steals +out of the room--she may not remain in a stranger's presence. The +lively girls want to hear a story at once; but the Whitebeard says the +guest must first have rest and refreshment. But while they are waiting +for the meal to be laid out, the blind minstrel relates something of +his recent travels, which in itself is almost as good as a fairy tale. +He has just arrived from Persia, whither he will soon return; for he +has only come back to the snows of Armenia to breathe the air of home +for a little. Did he go to Teheran? No; to say the truth, he deemed it +wiser to keep at a discreet distance from that capital. Such a thing +had been heard of ere now as the Shah putting under requisition any +skilful musicians who came in his way to teach their art to the fair +ones of the harem; so that occasionally it was unpleasantly difficult +to get out of Teheran when once you were in it. Still he was by no +means without interesting news. In a certain part of Persia he had +met another blind master-singer, with whom he strove for the prize of +minstrelsy. Both were entertained by a great Persian prince. When +the day came they were led out upon an open grass-plot and seated one +facing the other. The prince took up his position, and five thousand +people made a circle round the competitors. Then the grand brain-fight +began; the rivals contended in song and verse, riddle and repartee. +Now one starts an acrostic on the prince's name, in which each side +takes alternate letters; then the other versifies some sacred passage, +which his opponent must catch up when he breaks off. The ball is kept +flying to and fro with unflagging zeal; the crowd is rapturous in its +plaudits. But at length our minstrel's adversary pauses, hesitates, +fails to seize the drift of his rival's latest sally, and answers at +random. A shout proclaims him beaten. The triumphant bard is led to +where he stands, and taking his lyre from him breaks it into atoms. +The vanquished retires discomfited to the obscurity of his native +village, where haply his humble talents will not be despised. The +victor is robed in the prince's mantle, and taken to the highest seat +in the banqueting-hall. + +This is what the minstrel has to tell as he warms his hands over the +fire while the young married women serve the supper. A rush-mat is +placed upon the low round board, over that the table-cloth; then a +large tray is set in the middle, with the viands arranged on it in +metal dishes: onion soup, salted salmon-trout from the blue Gokschai, +hard-boiled eggs shelled and sliced, oil made from Kunjut seeds, which +does instead of butter; pilau, a dish resembling porridge; mutton +stewed with quinces, leeks, and various raw and preserved roots, cream +cheese, sour milk, dried apricots, and stoned raisins, form the bill +of fair. A can of golden wine is set out: there is plenty more in the +goatskins should it be wanted. The provisions are completed by an +item more important in Armenia than with us--bread. The flour-cake +or _losh_, a yard long and thin as paper, which is placed before each +guest, answers for plate, knives, forks, napkin, all of which are +absent. The Whitebeard says grace and the Lord's Prayer, everyone +crossing himself. The company wipe their mouths with a _losh_, and +proceed to help themselves with it to anything that tempts their fancy +on the middle tray. Some make a promiscuous sandwich of fish, mutton, +and leeks wrapped up in a piece of _losh_; others twist the _losh_ +into the shape of a spoon and ladle out the sour milk, swallowing +both together. The members of the family watch the minstrel's least +gesture, so as to anticipate his wishes; one after the other they +claim the privilege of waiting on him. When the meal is done, a young +housewife gently washes the guest's head and feet, and the whole party +adjourn to the chimney-corner. The evening flies mirthfully away, +listening to the minstrel's tales and ballads, these latter being +mostly in Tartar, the Provençal of the eastern troubadour. Finally, +the honoured visitor is conducted to his room, the "minstrel's +chamber," which, in every well-ordered Armenian household, is always +kept ready. + +Our little picture may be taken as the faithful reproduction of no +very extraordinary scene. Of ballad-singers such as the one here +introduced there are numbers in Armenia, where that "sixth sense," +music, is the recognised vocation of the blind. Those who are +proficient travel within a very wide area, and are everywhere received +with the highest consideration. + +In the East, the ballad-singer and the story-teller are just where +they were centuries ago. At Constantinople, the story-teller sits +down on his mat in the public place or at the _café_; listeners gather +round; he begins his story in a conversational tone, varying his voice +according to the characters; and soon both himself and his hearers are +as far away in the wondrous mazes of the "Arabian Nights" as if Europe +were still trembling before the sword of the Caliph. + +With regard to the unique marriage customs of Armenia, I ought to say +that they are asserted to result in the happiest unions. The general +idea upon which they rest seems to be derived from a series of +conclusions logical enough if you grant the premisses--indeed, +curiously more like some pen and paper scheme evolved out of the inner +consciousness of a German professor than a working system of +actual life. The prevailing custom in the East, as in some European +countries, is for the young girl to know nothing whatever of her +intended husband; only in the one case this is followed by total +seclusion after marriage, and in the other by complete emancipation. +In Armenia, on the contrary, the young girl makes her own choice, and +love-matches are not uncommon; but the choice once made and ratified +by the priest, the order of things is so arranged as to cause her +husband to become the woman's absorbing thought, his society her sole +solace, his pleasure the whole business of her life. For the rest she +is treated with much solicitude; even the peasant will not let his +wife do out-door work. + +Moses of Khoren gives the history of a wedding that took place about +one hundred years after Christ. In those days the tribes of the Alans, +in league with the mountaineers of the Caucasus and a part of the +people of Georgia, descended upon Armenia in considerable numbers. +Ardashes, the Armenian king, assembled his troops and advanced against +them. In a battle fought upon the confines of the two nations, the +Alans gave way, and having crossed the Cyrus, encamped on the northern +bank, the river dividing the contending forces. The son of the King of +the Alans had been taken prisoner and was conducted to Ardashes. His +father offered to conclude a peace on such conditions as Ardashes +might exact and under promise, guaranteed by a solemn oath, that the +Alans would attempt no further incursions on Armenian territory. As +Ardashes refused to surrender the young prince, the sister of the +youth ran to the edge of the river and climbing upon a lofty hillock, +caused these words to be addressed to the enemy's camp by the mouth +of interpreters: "Hear me, valorous Ardashes, conqueror of the brave +Alans; grant unto me the surrender of this young man--unto me, the +maiden with beautiful eyes. It is not worthy of a hero in order to +satisfy a desire for vengeance, to take the life of the sons of heroes +or to hold them in bondage and keep up an endless feud between two +nations." Ardashes, having heard these words, approached the river. He +saw the beautiful Sathinig, listened to her wise counsels, and fell +in love with her. Then, having called Sumpad, an aged warrior who +had watched over his childhood, he laid bare the wish of his heart to +marry the princess, make a treaty of amity with her nation and send +back the prince in peace. Sumpad, having approved of these projects, +sent to ask the King of the Alans for the hand of Sathinig. "What!" +replied her father, "will the valorous King Ardashes have ever +treasure enough to offer me in return for the noble damsel of the +Alans?" + +A popular song, carefully preserved by Moses, celebrates the marriage +of Ardashes and Sathinig:-- + + The valiant King Ardashes, astride of a sable charger, + Drew forth a thong of leather, garnished with golden rings: + And quick as fast-flying eagle he crossed the flowing river + And the crimson leather thong, garnished with rings of gold, + Cast he about the body of the Virgin of the Alans, + Clasping in painful embrace the maiden's tender form: + Even so he drew her swiftly to his encampment. + +Once again Ardashes appears in the people's poetry. He is no longer +the triumphant victor in love and war; the hour of his death draws +near. "Oh!" says the dying king, "who will give me back the smoke of +my hearth, and the joyous New Year's morning, and the spring of the +deer, and the lightness of the roe?" Then his mind wanders away to the +ruling passion: "We sounded the trumpets; after the manner of kings we +beat the drums." + +The Armenian princes were in the habit, when they married, of throwing +pieces of money from the threshold of their palace, whilst the royal +brides scattered pearls about the nuptial chamber. To this custom +allusion is made in two lines which used to be sung as a sort of +marriage chaunt:-- + + A rain of gold fell at the wedding of Ardashes, + A rain of pearls fell on the nuptials of Sathinig. + +Armenian nuptial songs, like all other folk-epithalamiums, so far as I +am aware, seem to point to an early state of society when the girl was +simply carried off by her marauding lover by fraud or force. Exulting +in what relates to the bridegroom, the favourite song on this subject +is profoundly melancholy as concerns the bride. The mother was cajoled +with a pack of linen, the father with a cup of wine, the brother +with a pair of boots, the little sister with a finger of antimony--so +complains the dismal ditty of a new bride. There is great pathos in +the words in which she begs her mother not to sweep the sand off the +little plank, so that the slight trace of her girl's footsteps may not +be effaced. + +Marriage is called in Armenian, "The Imposition of the Crown," from +the practice of crowning bride and bridegroom with fresh, white +flowers. I remember how, in one of the last marriages celebrated in +the little Armenian church in the Rue Monsieur (which was closed a +few years ago, when the Mekhitarist property in Paris was sold), this +ceremony was omitted by particular request of the bridegroom, a rising +French Diplomatist, who did not wish to wear a wreath of roses. The +Armenian marriage formulæ are extremely explicit. The priest, taking +the right hand of the bride, and placing it in that of the bridegroom, +says: "According to the Divine order God gave to our ancestors, I give +thee now this wife in subjection. Wilt thou be her master?" To which +the answer is, "Through the help of God, I will." The priest then asks +the woman: "Wilt thou be obedient to him?" She answers: "I am obedient +according to the order of God." The interrogations are repeated three +times, and three times responded to. + +An Armenian author, M. Ermine, published at Moscow in 1850 a treatise +on the historical and popular songs of ancient Armenia. + +Of popular songs current in more recent times there was not, till +lately, a single specimen within reach of the public, though it was +confidently surmised that such must exist. The Mekhitarist monks have +taken the lead in this as in every other branch of Armenian research, +and my examples are quoted from a small collection issued by their +press at Venice. I am not sure that I have chosen those that are +intrinsically the best, but think that those which figure in these +pages are amongst the most characteristic of their authors and origin. +The larger portion of these songs are printed from manuscripts in the +library of San Lazzaro; the date of their composition is thought +to vary from the end of the thirteenth to the end of the eighteenth +century. The language in which they are written is the vulgar +tongue of Armenia, but in several instances it attains a very close +approximation to the classical Armenian. + +It may not be amiss if I conclude this sketch with a brief account +of the remarkable order of the Mekhitarists, which is so intimately +related with all that bears on the subject of Armenian literature. +Those who are well acquainted with it will not object to hear the +history of this order recapitulated; while I believe that many who +have visited the Convent of San Lazzaro have yet but vague notions +regarding the work and aims of its inmates. It is to be conjectured +that, as a matter of fact, the majority of Englishmen go to San +Lazzaro rather in the spirit of a Byron-pilgrimage than from any +definite interest in the convent; and without doubt were its only +attraction its association with the English poet it would still be +worth a visit. Byron's connection with San Lazzaro was not one of the +least interesting episodes of his life; and it is pleasant to remember +the tranquil hours he spent in the society of the learned monks, and +the fascination exercised over him by their sterling and unpretentious +merit. "The neatness, the comfort, the gentleness, the unaffected +devotion of the brethren of the order," he wrote, "are well fitted to +strike the man of the world with the conviction that there is 'Another +and a better even in this life.'" The desire to present himself with +an excuse for frequent intercourse with the brothers was probably at +the bottom of Byron's sudden discovery that his mind "wanted something +craggy to break upon, and that Armenian was just the thing to torture +it into attention." He says it was the most difficult thing to be +found in Venice by way of an amusement, and describes the Armenian +character as a very "Waterloo of an alphabet." The origin of this +character is exceedingly curious, it being the only alphabet known +to have been the work of a single man, with the exception of the +Georgian, and now obsolete Caucasian Albanian. St Mesrop, an Armenian, +invented all the three about A.D. 406. Byron informs Moore, with some +elation, of the fate that befell a French professorship of Armenian, +which had then been recently instituted: "Twenty pupils presented +themselves on Monday morning, full of noble ardour, ingenuous youth, +and impregnable industry. They persevered with a courage worthy of the +nation, and of universal conquest till Thursday, then _fifteen_ out +of the _twenty_ succumbed to the six-and-twentieth letter of the +alphabet." The poet himself mastered all thirty-three letters, and a +good deal more besides, under the superintendence of the librarian, +Padre Paschal Aucher, a man who combined great learning with much +knowledge of the world. As the result of these studies we have a +translation into Scriptural English of two apocryphal epistles of St +Paul, and an Anglo-Armenian grammar, of which, with characteristic +liberality, Byron defrayed the cost of publication. + +The order was founded by Varthabed Mekhitar, who was born at Sebaste, +in Asia Minor, in 1676. Mekhitar was one of those men to whom it comes +quite naturally to go forth with David's sling and stone against the +Philistine and his host. He could have been scarcely more than twenty +years of age when fearlessly and steadfastly he set himself to the +gigantic task of raising his country out of the stagnant slough of +ignorance in which he saw it sunk. He was then a candidate for holy +orders, studying in an Armenian convent. + +The monks he found no less ignorant than the rest of the population; +those to whom he broached his ideas greeted them with derision, and +this did not fail to turn to cruel persecution when he began to preach +against certain prejudices which appeared to him to keep the Armenians +from conforming with the Latin Church--a union he earnestly desired. +Mekhitar now went to Constantinople, where he set on foot a small +monastic society; presently he moved to Modon, in the Morea, then +under the rule of Venice, but before he had been there long, the place +was seized by the Turks. A few of the monks, with their head, managed +to escape to Venice; the others were taken prisoners, and sold into +a temporary slavery. At Venice, in 1717, the Signory made over to +the fugitives in perpetuity a small barren island in the Lagune, once +tenanted by the Benedictines, who had there established a hospital for +lepers, but which, since the disappearance of that disease, had been +entirely uninhabited. Mekhitar immediately organised a printing +press, and began making translations of standard works, which were +disseminated wherever Armenians were to be found, that is to say, +all over the East. When he died in 1747, the work of the society was +already placed on a solid foundation; but it received considerable +development and extension from the hands of the third abbot-general, +Count Stephen Aconzkover, Archbishop of Sinnia, by birth a member of +an Armenian colony in Hungary, who sought admittance into the order, +and lived in the retirement of San Lazzaro for sixty-seven years. +He was a poet, a scholar of no mean attainments, and the author of +a universal geography in twelve volumes. The Society is now +self-supporting, large numbers of its publications being sold in +Persia, and India, and at Constantinople. These publications consist +of numerous translations and of reproductions of the great part of +Armenian literature. Many works have been printed from MSS. which are +collected by emissaries sent out from San Lazzaro to travel over the +plains and valleys of Armenia for the purpose of rescuing the literary +relics which are widely scattered, and are in constant danger of loss +or destruction, and at the same time to distribute Armenian versions +of the Bible. Another of the undertakings of the convent is a school +exclusively for the education of Armenian boys. About one hundred +boys receive free instruction in the two colleges at Venice. What this +order have effected, both towards the enlightenment of their country +and in keeping alive the sentiment of Armenian nationality, is simply +incalculable. In their self-imposed exile they have nobly carried out +the precept of an Armenian folk-poet: + + Forget not our Armenian nation, + And always assist and protect it. + Always keep in thy mind + To be useful to thy fatherland. + +On my first visit I passed a long summer morning in examining all +the points of interest about the monastery--the house and printing +presses, the library with its beautiful Pali papyrus of the Buddhist +ordination service, and its illuminated manuscripts, the minaretted +chapel, and the silent little Campo Santo, under the direction of +the most courteous and accomplished of cicerones, Padre Giacomo, +Dr Issaverdenz: a name signifying "Jesus-given." I saw the bright, +intelligent band of scholars: "of these," said my conductor, "five or +six will remain with us." I was shown the page of the visitor's book +inscribed with Byron's signature in English and in Armenian. Later +entries form a long roll of royal and notable names. The little museum +contains Daniel Manin's tricolor scarf of office, given to the monks +by the son of that devoted patriot. Queen Margherita does not fail to +pay San Lazzaro a yearly visit, and has lately accepted the dedication +of a book of Armenian church music. + +During this tour of inspection, various topics were discussed: the +tendencies of modern thought, the future of the church, with +other matters of a more personal nature--and upon each my guide's +observations displayed a singularly intellectual and tolerant attitude +of mind, together with a way of looking at things and speaking of +people in which "sweetness and light" were felicitously apparent. It +was difficult to tear oneself away from the open window in Byron's +little study. The day was one of those matchless Venetian days, when +the heat is tempered by a breeze just fresh enough to agitate the +awning of your gondola; and the Molo and Riva, and Fortune's golden +ball on the Dogana, the white San Giorgio Maggiore, the ships eastward +bound, the billowy line of the mountains of Vicenza against the +horizon, lie steeped in a bath of sunshine. But the outlook from the +convent window is not upon these. Beneath are the green berceaux of +a small vineyard, a little garden gay in its tangle of purple +convolvulus, a pomegranate lifting its laden boughs towards us--to +remind the Armenians of the "flowering pomegranates" of their beloved +country. Beyond the vineyard stretches the aquamarine surface of the +lagune--then the interminable reach of Lido--after that the ethereal +blue of the Adriatic melting away into the sky. Such is the scene +which till they die the good monks will have under their eyes. Perhaps +they are rather to be envied than compassionated; for it is manifest +that for them, duty--to use the eloquent expression of an English +divine--has become transfigured into happiness. "I shall stay here +whilst I live," Dr Issaverdenz said, "and I am happy--quite happy!" + + + + +VENETIAN FOLK-SONGS. + + +To the idealised vision that goes along with hereditary culture +a large town may seem an impressive spectacle. For Wordsworth, +worshipper of nature though he was, earth had not anything to show +more fair than London from Westminster Bridge, and Victor Hugo found +endless inspiration on the top of a Parisian omnibus. As shrines of +art, as foci of historic memories, even simply as vast aggregates of +human beings working out the tragi-comedy of life, great cities have +furnished the key-note to much fine poetry. But it is different +with the letterless masses. The student of literature, who turns to +folk-songs in search of a new enjoyment, will meet with little to +attract him in urban rhymes; if there are many that present points +of antiquarian interest, there are few that have any kind of poetic +worth. The people's poetry grows not out of an ideal world of +association and aspiration, but from the springs of their life. They +cannot see with their minds as well as with their eyes. What they do +see in most great towns is the monotonous ugliness which surrounds +their homes and their labour. Then again, it is a well-known fact that +with the people loss of individuality means loss of the power of +song; and where there is density of population there is generally a +uniformity as featureless as that of pebbles on the sea beach. +Still to the rule that folk-poesy is not a thing of town growth one +exception has to be made. Venice, unique under every aspect, has songs +which, if not of the highest, are unquestionably of a high order. The +generalising influences at play in great political centres have hardly +affected the inhabitants of the city which for a thousand years of +independence was a body politic complete in itself. Nor has Venetian +common life lacked those elements of beauty without whose presence the +popular muse is dumb. The very industries of the Venetians were +arts, and when they were young and spiritually teachable, their chief +bread-winning work of every day was Venice--her ducal chapel, her +campanile, her palaces of marble and porphyry. In the process of +making her the delight of after ages, they attended an excellent +school of poetry. + +The gondolier contemporary with Byron was correctly described as +songless. At a date closely coinciding with the overthrow of Venetian +freedom, the boatmen left off waking the echoes of the Grand Canal, +except by those cries of warning which, no one can quite say why, so +thrill and move the hearer. It was no rare thing to find among the +Italians of the Lombardo-Venetian provinces the old pathetic instinct +of keeping silence before the stranger. I recollect a story told me +by one of them. When he was a boy, Antonio--that was his name--had to +make a journey with two young Austrian officers. They took notice of +the lad, who was sprightly and good-looking, and by and by they asked +him to sing. "Canta, canta, il piccolo," said they; "sing us the songs +of Italy." He refused. They insisted, and, coming to a tavern, they +gave him wine, which sent the blood to his head. So at last he said, +"Very well, I will sing you the songs of Italy." What he sang was one +of the most furiously anti-Austrian songs of '48. "Ah! taci, taci il +piccolo!" cried the officers, but the "piccolo" would not be quiet +until he had sung the whole revolutionary repertory. The Austrians +knew how to appreciate the boy's spirit, for they pressed on him a ten +franc piece at parting. + +To return to Venice. In the year 1819 an English traveller asked for +a song of a man who was reported to have once chanted Tasso _alla +barcaruolo_; the old gondolier shook his head. "In times like these," +he said, "he had no heart to sing." Foreign visitors had to fall back +on the beautiful German music, at the sound of which Venetians ran +out of the Piazza, lest they might be seduced by its hated sweetness. +Meanwhile the people went on singing in their own quarters, and away +from the chance of ministering to their masters' amusement. It is +even probable that the moral casemate to which they fled favoured the +preservation of their old ways, that of poetising included. Instead of +aiming at something novel and modern, the Venetian wished to be like +what his fathers were when the flags on St Mark's staffs were not +yellow and black. So, like his fathers, he made songs and sang songs, +of which a good collection has been formed, partly in past years, +and partly since the black-and-yellow standard has given place, +not, indeed, to the conquered emblems of the Greek isles, but to the +colours of Italy, reconquered for herself. + +Venetian folk-poesy begins at the cradle. The baby Venetian, like +most other babies, is assured that he is the most perfect of created +beings. Here and there, underlying the baby nonsense, is a dash of +pathos. "Would you weep if I were dead?" a mother asks, and the child +is made to answer, "How could I help weeping for my own mamma, who +loves me so in her heart?" A child is told that if he asks his mother, +who is standing by the door, "What are you doing there?" she will +reply, "I am waiting for thy father; I wait and wait, and do not see +him coming; I think I shall die thus waiting." The little Venetian has +the failings of baby-kind all the world over; he cries and he laughs +when he ought to be fast asleep. His mother tells him that he was born +to live in Paradise; she is sure that the angels would rejoice in her +darling's beauty. "Sleep well, for thy mother sits near thee," she +sings, "and if by chance I go away, God will watch thee when I am +gone." + +A christening is regarded in Venice as an event of much social as +well as religious importance. By canon law the bonds of relationship +established by godfatherhood count for the same as those of blood, for +which reason the Venetian nobles used to choose a person of inferior +rank to stand sponsor for their children, thus escaping the creation +of ties prohibitive of marriage between persons of their own class. In +this case the material responsibilities of the sponsor were slight--it +was his part to take presents, and not to make them. By way of +acknowledging the new connection, the child's father sent the +godfather a marchpane, that cake of mystic origin which is still +honoured and eaten from Nuremberg to Malaga. With the poor, another +order of things is in force. The _compare de l'anelo_--the person +who acted as groomsman at the marriage--is chosen as sponsor to the +first-born child. His duties begin even before the christening. When +he hears of the child's birth, he gets a piece of meat, a fowl, and +two new-laid eggs, packs them in a basket, and despatches them to +the young mother. Eight days after the birth comes the baptism. On +returning from the church, the sponsor, now called _compare de +San Zuane_, visits the mother, before whom he displays his +presents--twelve or fifteen lire for herself; for the baby a pair of +earrings, if it be a girl; and if a boy, a pair of boy's earrings, +or a single ornament to be worn in the right ear. Henceforth the +godfather is the child's natural guardian next to its parents; and +should they die, he is expected to provide for it. Should the child +die, he must buy the _zogia_ (the "joy"), a wreath of flowers now set +on the coffins of dead infants, but formerly placed on their heads +when they were carried to the grave-isle in full sight of the people. +This last custom led to even more care being given to the toilet of +dead children than what might seem required by decency and affection. +To dress a dead child badly was considered shameful. Tradition tells +of what happened to a woman who was so miserly that she made her +little girl a winding-sheet of rags and tatters. When the night of +the dead came round and all the ghosts went in procession, the injured +babe, instead of going with the rest, tapped at its mother's door and +cried, "Mamma, do you see me? I cannot go in procession because I +am all ragged." Every year on the night of the dead the baby girl +returned to make the same reproach. + +Venetian children say before they go to bed: + + Bona sera ai vivi, + E riposo ai poveri morti; + Bon viagio ai naveganti + E bona note ai tuti quanti. + +There is a sort of touching simplicity in this; and somehow the wish +of peace to the "poor dead" recalls a line of Baudelaire's-- + + Les morts, les pauvres morts, ont de grandes douleurs. + +But as a whole, the rhymes of the Venetian nursery are not +interesting, save from their extreme resemblance to the nursery rhymes +of England, France, or any other European country. They need not, +therefore, detain us. + +Twilight is of an Eastern brevity on the Adriatic shore, both in +nature and in life. The child of yesterday is the man of to-day, and +as soon as the young Venetian discovers that he has a heart, he takes +pains to lose it to a _Tosa_ proportionately youthful. The Venetian +and Provençal word _Tosa_ signifies maiden, though whether the +famous Cima Tosa is thus a sister to the Jungfrau is not sure, some +authorities believing it to bear the more prosaic designation +of baldheaded ("Tonsurata"). Our young Venetian may perhaps be +unacquainted with the girl he has marked out for preference. In any +case he walks up and down or rows up and down assiduously under her +window. One night he will sing to a slow, languorous air--possibly an +operatic air, but so altered as to be not easy of recognition--"I wish +all good to all in this house, to father and to mother and as many as +there be; and to Marieta who is my beloved, she whom you have in +your house." The name of the singer is most likely Nane, for Nane and +Marieta are the commonest names in Venice, which is explained by +the impression that persons so called cannot be bewitched, a serious +advantage in a place where the Black Art is by no means extinct. The +maiden long remembers the night when first her rest was disturbed +by some such greeting as the above. She has rendered account of her +feelings: + + Ah! how mine eyes are weighed in slumber deep! + Now all my life it seems has gone to sleep; + But if a lover passes by the door, + Then seems it this my life will sleep no more. + +It does not do to appropriate a serenade with too much precipitation. +Don Quixote gave it as his experience that no woman would believe that +a poem was written expressly for her unless it made an acrostic on her +name spelt out in full. Venetian damsels proceed with less caution: +hence now and then a sad disappointment. A girl who starts up all +pit-a-pat at the twanging of a guitar may be doomed to hear the cruel +sentence pronounced in Lord Houghton's pretty lyric: + + "I am passing--Premé--but I stay not for you! + Premé--not for you!" + +Even more unkind are the literal words of the Venetian: "If I pass +this way and sing as I pass, think not, fair one, that it is for +you--it is for another love, whose beauty surpasses yours!" + +A brother or a friend occasionally undertakes the serenading. He +is not paid like the professional Trovador whom the Valencian lover +engages to act as his interpreter. He has no reward in view but empty +thanks, and it is scarcely surprising if on damp nights he is inclined +to fall into a rather querulous vein. "My song is meant for the +_Morosa_ of my companion," says one of these accommodating minstrels. +"If only I knew where she was! But he told me that she was somewhere +in here. The rain is wetting me to the skin!" Another exclaims more +cheerfully, "Beautiful angel, if it pleases God, you will become my +sister-in-law!" + +After the singing of the preliminary songs, Nane seeks a hint of the +effect produced on the beloved Marieta. As she comes out of church, +he makes her a most respectful bow, and if it be returned ever so +slightly, he musters up courage, and asks in so many words whether +she will have him. Marieta reflects for about three days; then she +communicates her answer by sign or song. If she does not want him, she +shuts herself up in the house and will not look out for a moment. +Nane begs her to show her face at the window: "Come, oh! come! If thou +comest not 'tis a sign that thou lovest me not; draw my heart out of +all these pangs." Marieta, if she is quite decided, sings back from +behind the half-closed shutters, "You pass this way, and you pass in +vain: in vain you wear out shoes and soles; expect no fair words from +me." It may be that she confesses to not knowing her own mind: "I +should like to be married, but I know not to whom: when Nane passes, I +long to say 'Yes;' when Toni passes, I am fain to look kindly at him; +when Bepi passes, I wish to cry, God bless you!" Or again, it may be +that her heart is not hers to give: + + Wouldst thou my love? For love I have no heart; + I had it once, and gave it once away; + To my first love I gave it on a day ... + Wouldst thou my love? For love I have no heart. + +In the event of the girl intimating that she is disposed to listen to +her _Moroso_ if all goes well, he turns to her parents and formally +asks permission to pay his addresses to their daughter. That +permission is, of course, not always granted. If the parents have +thoughts of a wealthier match, the poor serenader finds himself +unceremoniously sent about his business. A sad state of things ensues. +Marieta steals many a sorrowful glance at the despised Nane, who, on +his side, vents his indignation on the authors of her being in terms +much wanting in respect. "When I behold thee so impassioned," he +cries, "I curse those who have caused this grief; I curse thy papa and +thy mamma, who will not let us make love." No idea is here implied +of dispensing with the parental fiat; the same cannot be said of the +following observations: "When I pass this house, my heart aches. The +girl wills me well, her people will me ill; her people will not hear +of it, nor, indeed, will mine. So we have to make love secretly. But +that cannot really be done. He who wishes for a girl, goes and asks +for her--out of politeness. He who wants to have her, carries her +off." It would seem that the maiden has been known to be the first to +incite rebellion: + + Do, my beloved, as other lovers do, + Go to my father, and ask leave to woo; + And if my father to reply is loth, + Come back to me, for thou hast got my troth. +When the parents have no _primâ facie_ objection to the youth, they +set about inquiring whether he bears a good character, and whether +the girl has a real liking for him. These two points cleared up +satisfactorily, they still defer their final answer for some weeks or +months, to make a trial of the suitor and to let the young people get +better acquainted. The lover, borne up by hope, but not yet sure of +his prize, calls to his aid the most effective songs in his repertory. +The last thing at night Marieta hears:-- + + Sleep thou, most fair, in all security, + For I have made me guardian of thy gate, + Safe shalt thou be, for I will watch and wait; + Sleep thou, most fair, in all security. + +The first thing in the morning she is greeted thus: + + Art thou awake, O fairest, dearest, best? + Raise thy blond head and bid thy slumbers fly; + This is the hour thy lover passes by, + Throw him a kiss, and then return to rest. + +If she has any lurking doubts of Nane's constancy she receives the +assurance, "One of these days I will surely make thee my bride--be not +so pensive, fairest angel!" If, on the other hand, Nane lacks complete +confidence in her affection, he appeals to her in words resembling I +know not what Eastern love-song: "Oh, how many steps I have taken to +have thee, and how many more I would take to gain thee! I have taken +so many, many steps that I think thou wilt not forsake me." + +The time of probation over, the girl's parents give a feast, to which +the youth and his parents are invited. He brings with him, as a first +offering, a small ring ornamented with a turquoise or a cornelian. +Being now the acknowledged lover, he may come and openly pay his court +every Sunday. On Saturday Marieta says to herself, "_Ancuo xe sabo, +doman xe festa_--to-morrow is fête day, and to-morrow I expect Nane!" +Then she pictures how he will come "dressed for the _festa_ with a +little flower in his hand;" and her heart beats with impatience. +If, after all, by some chance--who knows? by some faithlessness +perhaps--he fails to appear, what grief, what tears! Marieta's first +thought when she rises on Sunday morning is this: "No one works to-day +for it is _festa_; I pray you come betimes, dearest love!" Then comes +the second thought: "If he does not come betimes, it is a sign that he +is near to death; if later I do not see him, it is a sign that he is +dead." The day passes, evening is here--no Nane! "Vespers sound and +my love comes not; either he is dead, or" (the third and bitterest +thought of all) "a love-thief has stolen him from me!" + +Some little while after the lover has been formally accepted, he +presents the maiden with a plain gold ring called _el segno_, and a +second dinner or supper takes place at her parent's house, answering +to the German betrothal feast; henceforth he is the _sposo_ and she +the _novizza_, and, as in Germany, people look on the pair as very +little less than wedded. The new bride gives the bridegroom a silk +handkerchief, to which allusion is made in a verse running, "What is +that handkerchief you are wearing? Did you steal it or borrow it? I +neither stole it nor borrowed it; my _Morosa_ tied it round my neck." +At Easter the _sposo_ gives a cake and a couple of bottles of Cyprus +or Malaga; at Christmas a box of almond sweetmeats and a little jug +of _mostarda_ (a Venetian _spécialité_ composed of quinces dressed in +honey and mustard); at the feast of St Martin, sweet chestnuts; at the +feast of St Mark, _el bocolo_--that is, a rosebud, emblematical of the +opening year. The lover may also employ his generosity on New Year's +day, on the girl's name-day, and on other days not specified, taking +in the whole 365. Some maidens show a decided taste for homage +in kind. "My lover bids me sing, and to please him I will do it," +observes one girl, thus far displaying only the most disinterested +amiability. But presently she reveals her motives: "He has a ring with +a white stone; when I have sung he will give it to me." A less sordid +damsel asks only for a bunch of flowers; it shall be paid for with a +kiss, she says. Certain things there are which may be neither given +nor taken by lovers who would not recklessly tempt fate. Combs are +placed under the ban, for they may be made to serve the purposes of +witchcraft; saintly images and church-books, for they have to do +with trouble and repentance; scissors, for scissors stand for evil +speaking; and needles, for it is the nature of needles to prick. + +Whether through the unwise exchange of these prohibited articles, or +from other causes, it does sometimes happen that the betrothed lovers +who have been hailed by everybody as _novizza_ and _sposo_ yet manage +to fall out beyond any hopes of falling in again. If it is the youth's +fault that the match is broken off, all his presents remain in the +girl's undisputed possession; if the girl is to blame, she must send +back the _segno_ and all else that she has received. It is said that +in some districts of Venetia the young man keeps an accurate account +of whatever he spends on behalf of his betrothed, and in the case of +her growing tired of him, she has to pay double the sum total, besides +defraying the loss incurred by the hours he has sacrificed to her, and +the boots he has worn out in the course of his visits. + +It is more usual, as well as more satisfactory, for the betrothal +to be followed in due time by marriage. After the _segno_ has been +"passed," the _sposo_ sings a new song. "When," asks he, "will be the +day whereon to thy mamma I shall say 'Madona;' to thy papa 'Missier;' +and to thee, darling, 'Wife'?" "Madona" is still the ordinary term for +mother-in-law at Venice; in Tuscan songs the word is also used in that +sense, though it has fallen out of common parlance. Wherever it is +to be found, it points to the days when the house-mother exercised an +unchallenged authority over all members of the family. Even now the +mother-in-law of Italian folk-songs is a formidable personage; to say +the truth, there is no scant measure of self-congratulation when she +happens not to exist. "Oh! Dio del siel, mandeme un ziovenin senza +madona!" is the heartfelt prayer of the Venetian girl. + +If the youth thinks of the wedding day as the occasion of forming new +ties--above all that dearest tie which will give him his _anzola bela_ +for his own--the maiden dreams of it as the _zornada santa_; the day +when she will kneel at the altar and receive the solemn benediction of +the church upon entering into a new station of life. "Ah! when shall +come to pass that holy day, when the priest will say to me, 'Are you +content?' when he shall bless me with the holy water--ah! when shall +it come to pass?" + +It has been noticed that the institution of marriage is not regarded +in a very favourable light by the majority of folk-poets, but Venetian +rhymers as a rule take an encouraging view of it. "He who has a wife," +sings a poet of Chioggia, "lives right merrily _co la sua cara sposa +in compagnia_." Warning voices are not, however, wanting to tell the +maiden that wedded life is not all roses: "You would never want to be +married, my dear, if you knew what it was like," says one such; +while another mutters, "Reflect, girls, reflect, before ye wed these +gallants; on the Ponte di Rialto bird cages are sold." + +The marriage generally comes off on a Sunday. Who weds on Monday +goes mad; Tuesday will bring a bad end; Wednesday is a day good for +nothing; Thursday all manner of witches are abroad; Friday leads to +early death; and, as to Saturday, you must not choose that, _parchè de +sabo piove_, "because on Saturday it rains!" + +The bride has two toilets--one for the church, one for the wedding +dinner. At the church she wears a black veil, at the feast she appears +crowned with flowers. After she is dressed and before the bridegroom +arrives, the young girl goes to her father's room and kneeling down +before him, she prays with tears in her eyes to be forgiven whatever +grief she may have caused him. He grants her his pardon and gives her +his blessing. In the early dawn the wedding party go to church either +on foot or in gondolas, for it is customary for the marriage knot to +be tied at the conclusion of the first mass. When the right moment +comes the priest puts the _vera_, or wedding ring, on the tip of the +bride's finger, and the bridegroom pushes it down into its proper +place. If the _vera_ hitches, it is a frightfully bad omen. When once +it is safely adjusted, the best man steps forward and restores to +the bride's middle finger the little ring which formed the lover's +earliest gift; for this reason he is called _compare de l'anelo_, a +style and title he will one day exchange for that of _compare de San +Zuane_. + +At the end of the service the bride returns to her father's house, +where she remains quietly till it is time to get ready for dinner. As +the clock strikes four, the entire wedding party, with the parents +of bride and bridegroom and a host of friends and relations, start in +gondolas for the inn at which the repast is to take place. The whole +population of the _calle_ or _campo_ is there to see their departure, +and to admire or criticise, as the case may be. After dinner, when +everyone has tasted the good wine and enjoyed the good fare, the feast +breaks up with cries of _Viva la novizza!_ followed by songs, stories, +laughter, and much flirtation between the girls and boys, who make the +most of the freedom of intercourse conceded to them in honour of +the day. Then the music begins, the table is whisked away, and the +assembled guests join lustily in the dance; the women perhaps, singing +at intervals, "Enôta, enôta, enìo!" a burden borne over to Venice +from the Grecian shore. The romance is finished; Marieta and Nane are +married, the _zornada santa_ wanes to its close, the tired dancers +accompany the bride to the threshold of her new home, and so adieu! + +Before leaving the subject of Venetian love-songs it may be as well to +glance at a few points characteristic of the popular mind which it has +not been convenient to touch upon in following the Venetian youth and +maiden from the _prima radice_ of their love to its consecration at +the altar. What, for instance, does the Venetian singer say of poverty +and riches?--for there is no surer test of character than the way +of regarding money and the lack of it. It is taken pretty well for +granted at Venice as elsewhere, that inequality of fortune is a bar to +matrimony. The poor girl says to her better-to-do lover, "Thou passest +this way sad and grieving, thou thinkest to speak to my father, and +on thy finger thou dost carry a little ring. But thy thought does not +fall in with my thought, and thy thought is not worth a gazette. Thou +art rich and I am a poor little one!" Here the girl puts all faith in +the good intentions of her suitor: it is not his fault if her poverty +divides them; it is the nature of things, against which there is no +appeal. But there is more than one song that betrays the suspicion +that if a girl grows poor her lover will be only too eager and ready +to desert her. "My lady mother has always told me that she who falls +into poverty loses her lover; loses friend and loses hope. The purse +does not sing when there is no coin in it." Still, on the whole, a +more high-minded view prevails. "Do not look to my being a poor man," +says one lover, + + Che povatà no guasta gentilissa, + +--"for poverty does not spoil or prevent gentle manners." A girl +sings, "All tell me that I am poor, the world's honour is my riches; I +am poor, I am of fair fame; poor both of us, let us make love." One is +reminded of "how the good wife taught her daughter" in the old English +poem of the fifteenth century: + + I pray the, my dere childe, loke thou bere the so well + That alle men may seyen thou art so trewe as stele; + Gode name is golde worth, my leve childe! + +A brave little Venetian maiden cries: "How many there are who desire +fortune! and I, poor little thing, desire it not. This is the fortune +I desire, to wed a youth of twenty-one years." One lover pines for +riches, but only that he may offer them to his beloved: "Fair Marieta, +I wish to make my fortune, to go where the Turk has his cradle, and +work myself nearly to death, so that afterwards I may come back to +thee, my fair one, and marry thee." Finally, a town youth says that if +his country love has but a milk-pail for her dowry, what matters? + + De dota la me dà quel viso belo! + +The Venetian displays no marked enthusiasm for fair hair, +notwithstanding the fame of Giorgione's sunset heads and the +traditional expedients by which Venetian ladies of past times +sought to bring their dark locks into conformity with that painter's +favourite hue. In Venetian songs there is nothing about the "golden +spun silk" of Sicily; if a Venetian folk-poet does speak of fair hair, +he calls it by the common-place generic term of blond. The available +evidence goes rather to show that in his own heart he prefers a +brunette. "My lady mother always told me that I should never be +enamoured of white roses," says a sententious young man; "she told +me that I should love the little mulberries, which are sweeter than +honey." "Cara mora," _mora_, or mulberry, meaning brunette, is +an ordinary caressing term. Two frank young people carry on this +dialogue: "Will you come to me, fair maid?" "No; I will not come, for +I am fair." "If you are fair, I am no less so; if you are the rose, I +am the spotless lily." Beauty, therefore, is valued, especially by +the possessors of it. But the Venetian admits the possibility of that +which Keats found so hard to comprehend--the love of the plain. A +girl says, and it is a pretty saying, "Se no so bela, ghe piaso al +mio amore" ("If I am not fair, I please my beloved"). A soldier, +whose _morosa_ dies, does not weep for her beauty, for she was not +beautiful; nor for her riches, for she was not rich; he weeps for her +sweet manners and conversation--it was that that made him love her. +The universal weakness for a little flattery from the hand of the +portrait-painter is expressed in a sprightly little song: + + What does it matter if I am not fair, + Who have a lover, who a painter is? + He will portray me like a star, I wis; + What does it matter if I am not fair? + +We hear a good deal of lovers' quarrels, and of the transitoriness of +love. "Oh! God! how the sky is overcast! It seems about to rain, and +then it passes; so is it with a man in love; he loves a fair woman, +and then he leaves her." That is her version of the affair. He has +not anything complimentary to say: "If I get out of this squall alive, +never more shall woman in the world befool me. I have been befooled +upon a pledge of sacred faith: mad is the man who believes in women." +Another man says, with more serious bitterness: "What time have I not +lost in loving you! Had I lost it in saying so many prayers, I should +have found favour before God, and my mother would have blessed me." A +matter-of-fact girl remarks, "No one will grow thin on your account, +nor will any one die on mine." When her lover says that he has sent +her his heart in a basket, she replies that she sends back both basket +and heart, being in want of neither; and if he should really happen to +die, she unfeelingly meditates, "My love is dead, and I have not wept; +I had thought to suffer more torment. A Pope dies, another is made; +not otherwise do I weep for my love." + +Certain vocations are looked upon with suspicion: + + Sailor's trade--at sea to die! + Merchant's trade--that's bankruptcy; + Gambler's trade in cursing ends, + Thief's trade to the gallows sends. + +But in spite of the second line about "l'arte del mercante," a girl +does not much mind marrying a merchant or shopkeeper; nay, it is +sometimes her avowed ambition: + + I want no fisher with a fishy smell, + A market gardener would not suit me well; + Nor yet a mariner who sails the sea: + A fine flour-merchant is the man for me. + +A miller seems to think that he stands a good chance: "Come to the +window, Columbine! I am that miller who brought thee, the other +evening, the pure white flour." Shoemakers are in very bad odour: "I +calegheri ga na trista fama." Fishermen are considered poor penniless +folk, and she who weds a sailor, does so at her peril: + + L'amor del mariner no dura un 'ora, + La dove che lu el và, lu s' inamora. + +And even if the sailor's troth can be trusted, is it not his trade "at +sea to die"? But the young girl will not be persuaded. "All say to me, +'Beauty, do not take the mariner, for he will make thee die;' if he +make me die, so must it be; I will wed him, for he is my soul." And +when he is gone, she sings: "My soul, as thou art beyond the port, +send me word if thou art alive or dead, if the waters of the sea have +taken thee?" She returns sadly to her work, the work of all Venetian +maidens: + + My love is far and far away from me, + I am at home, and he has gone to sea; + He is at sea, and he has sails to spread, + I am at home, and I have beads to thread. + +The boatman's love can afford to sing in a lighter strain; there is +not the shadow of interminable voyages upon her. "I go out on the +balcony, I see Venice, and I see my joy, who starts; I go out on the +balcony, I see the sea, and I see my love, who rows." Another song is +perhaps a statement of fact, though it sounds like a poetic fancy: + + To-night their boats must seek the sea, + One night his boat will linger yet; + They bear a freight of wood, and he + A freight of rose and violet. + +Who forgets the coming into Venice in the early morning light of the +boats laden with fresh flowers and fruit? + +Isaac d'Israeli states that the fishermen's wives of the Lido, +particularly those of the districts of Malamocca and Pelestrina (its +extreme end), sat along the shore in the evenings while the men were +out fishing, and sang stanzas from Tasso and other songs at the +pitch of their voices, going on till each one could distinguish the +responses of her own husband in the distance. + +At first sight the songs of the various Italian provinces appear to be +greatly alike, but at first sight only. Under further examination they +display essential differences, and even the songs which travel all +over Italy almost always receive some distinctive touch of local +colour in the districts where they obtain naturalisation. The Venetian +poet has as strongly marked an identity as any of his fellows. Not +to speak of his having invented the four-lined song known as the +"Vilota," the quality of his work unmistakably reflects his peculiar +idiosyncracies. An Italian writer has said, "nella parola e nello +scritto ognuno imita sè stesso;" and the Venetian "imitates himself" +faithfully enough in his verses. He has a well-developed sense of +humour, and his finer wit discerns less objectionable paths than +those of parody and burlesque, for which the Sicilian shows so fatal +a leaning. He is often in a mood of half-playful cynicism; if his +paramount theme is love, he is yet fully inclined to have a laugh at +the expense of the whole race of lovers: + + A feast I will prepare for love to eat, + Non-suited suitors I will ask to dine; + They shall have pain and sorrow for their meat, + They shall have tears and sobs to drink for wine; + And sighs shall be the servitors most fit + To wait at table where the lovers sit. + +As compared with the Tuscan, the Venetian is a confirmed egotist. +While the former well-nigh effaces his individual personality out +of his hymns of adoration, the latter is apt to talk so much of his +private feelings, his wishes, his disappointments, that the idol +stands in danger of being forgotten. There is, indeed, a single +song--the song of one of the despised mariners--which combines +the sweet humility of Tuscan lyrics with a glow and fervour truly +Venetian--possibly its author was in reality some Istriot seaman, for +the _canti popolari_ of Istria are known to partake of both styles. +Anyhow, it may figure here, justified by what seems to me its own +excellence of conception: + + Fair art thou born, but love is not for me; + A sailor's calling sends me forth to sea. + I do desire to paint thee on my sail, + And o'er the briny deep I'd carry thee. + They ask, What ensign? when the boat they hail-- + For woman's love I bear this effigy; + For woman's love, for love of maiden fair; + If her I may not love, I love forswear! + +When he is most in earnest and most excited, the Venetian is still +homely--he has none of the Sicilian's luxuriant imagination. I may +call to mind a remark of Edgar Poe's to the effect that passion +demands a homeliness of expression. Passionate the Venetian poet +certainly is. Never a man was readier to "dare e'en death" at the +behest of his mistress-- + + Wouldst have me die? Then I'll no longer live. + Grant unto me for sepulchre thy bed, + Make me straightway a pillow of thy head, + And with thy mouth one kiss, beloved one, give. + +At Chioggia, where still in the summer evenings _Orlando Furioso_ is +read in the public places, and where artists go in quest of the old +Venetian type, they sing a yet more impassioned little song. + + Oh, Morning Star, I ask of thee this grace, + This only grace I ask of thee, and pray: + The water where thou hast washed thy breast and face, + In kindly pity throw it not away. + Give it to me for medicine; I will take + A draught before I sleep and when I wake; + And if this medicine shall not make me whole, + To earth my body, and to hell my soul! + +It must be added that Venetian folk-poesy lacks the innate sympathy +with all beautiful natural things which pervades the poesy of the +Apennines. This is in part the result of outward conditions: nature, +though splendid, is unvaried at Venice. The temperament of the +Venetian poet explains the rest. If he alludes to the _bel seren con +tante stelle_, it is only to say that "it would be just the night to +run away with somebody"--to which assertion he tacks the disreputable +rider, "he who carries off girls is not called a thief, he is called +an enamoured young man." + +Even in the most lovely and the most poetic of cities you cannot +breathe the pure air of the hills. The Venetian is without the intense +refinement of the Tuscan mountaineer, as he is without his love of +natural beauty. The Tuscan but rarely mentions the beloved one's +name--he respects it as the Eastern mystic respects the name of +the Deity; the Venetian sings it out for the edification of all the +boatmen of the canal. The Tuscan has come to regard a kiss as a thing +too sacred to talk about; the Venetian has as few scruples on the +subject as the poet of Sirmio. Nevertheless, it should be recognised +that a not very blameable unreservedness of speech is the most serious +charge to be brought against all save a small minority of Venetian +singers. I believe that the able and conscientious collector, Signor +Bernoni, has exercised but slight censorship over the mass of songs he +has placed on record, notwithstanding which the number of those that +can be accused of an immoral tendency is extremely limited. Whence it +is to be inferred that the looseness of manners prevailing amongst the +higher classes at Venice in the decadence of the Republic at no time +became general in the lower and sounder strata of society. + +At the beginning of this century, songs that were called Venetian +ballads were very popular in London drawing-rooms. That they were sung +with more effect before those who had never heard them in their own +country than before those who had, will be easily believed. A charming +letter-writer of that time described the contrast made by the gay or +impassioned strain of the poetry to "the stucco face of the statue who +doles it forth;" whilst in Venice, he added, it is seconded by all the +nice inflections of voice, grace of gesture, play of features, that +distinguish Venetian women. One of the Venetian songs which gained +most popularity abroad was the story of the damsel who drops her ring +into the sea, and of the fisherman who fishes it up, refusing all +other reward than a kiss: + + Oh! pescator dell 'onda, + Findelin, + Vieni pescar in qua! + Colla bella sua barca + Colla bella se ne va + Findelin! lin, la! + +But this song is not peculiarly Venetian; it is sung everywhere on the +Adriatic and Mediterranean coasts. And the version used was in pure +Italian. Judged as poetry, the existing Venetian ballads take a +lower place than the _Vilote_. They are often not much removed from +doggerel, as may be shown by a lamentable history which confusedly +suggests Enoch Arden with the moral of "Tue-la:" + + "Who is that knocking at my gates? + Who is that knocking at my door?" + "A London captain 'tis who waits, + Your very humble servitor." + In deshabille the fair one ran, + Straightway the door she opened wide: + "Tell me, my fair one, if you can, + Where does your husband now abide?" + "My husband he has gone to France, + Pray heaven that back he may not come;" + --Just then the fair one gave a glance, + It was her spouse arrived at home! + "Forgive, forgive," the fair one cried, + "Forgive if I have done amiss;" + "There is no pardon," he replied, + For women who have sinned like this." + Her head fell off at the first blow, + The first blow wielded by his sword; + So does just Heaven its anger show + Against the wife who wrongs her lord. + +Venetian songs will serve as a guide to the character, but scarcely +to the opinions, of the Venetians. The long struggle with Austria has +left no other trace than a handful of rough verses dating from the +Siege--mere strings of _Evvivas_ to the dictator and the army. It may +be argued that the fact is not exceptional, that like the _Fratelli +d'ltalia_ of Goffredo Mameli, the war-songs of the Italian movement +were all composed for the people and not by them. Still there have +been genuine folk-poets who have discoursed after their fashion of +_Italia libera_. The Tuscan peasants sang as they stored the olives of +1859-- + + L'amore l'ho in Piamonte, + Bandiera tricolor! + +There is not in Venetian songs an allusion to the national cause so +naïvely, so caressingly expressive as this. It cannot be that the +Venetian _popolano_ did not care; whenever his love of country was +put to the test, it was found in no way wanting. Was it that to his +positive turn of mind there appeared to be an absence of connection +between politics and poetry? Looking back to the songs of an earlier +period, we find the same habit of ignoring public events. A rhyme, +answering the purpose of our "Ride a cock horse," contains the sole +reference to the wars of Venice with the Porte-- + + Andemo a la guera + Per mare e per tera, + E cataremo i Turchi, + Li mazzaremo tuti, &c. + +In the proverbs, if not in the songs, a somewhat stronger impress +remains of the independent attitude assumed by the Republic in its +dealings with the Vatican. The Venetians denied Papal infallibility +by anticipation in the saying, "The Pope and the countryman know more +than the Pope alone;" and in one line of a nursery ditty, "El Papa no +xè Rè," they quietly abolished the temporal power. When Paul V. +laid the city under an interdict, the citizens made answer, "Prima +Veneziani e poi cristiani," a proverb that survives to this day. +"Venetians first" was the first article of faith of these men, or +rather it was to them a vital instinct. Their patriotism was a kind of +magnificent _amour propre_. No modern nation has felt a pride of +state so absorbing, so convinced, so transcendent: a pride which lives +incarnate in the forms and faces of the Venetian senators who look +serenely down on us from the walls of the Art Gallery out of the +company of kings, of saints, of angels, and of such as are higher than +the angels. + +A chance word or phrase now and then accidentally carries us back to +Republican times and institutions. The expression, "Thy thought is not +worth a _gazeta_," occurring in a love-song cited above, reminds us +that the term gazette is derived from a Venetian coin of that name, +value three-quarters of a farthing, which was the fee charged for the +privilege of hearing read aloud the earliest venture in journalism, a +manuscript news-sheet issued once a month at Venice in the sixteenth +century. The figure of speech, "We must have fifty-seven," meaning, +"we are entering on a serious business," has its origin in the +fifty-seven votes necessary to the passing of any weighty measure +in the Venetian Senate. The Venetian adapter of Molière's favourite +ditty, in lieu of preferring his sweetheart to the "bonne ville de +Paris," prefers her to "the Mint, the Arsenal, and the Bucentaur." +Every one is familiar with the quaint description of the outward +glories of St Mark's Square: + + In St Mark's Place three standards you descry, + And chargers four that seem about to fly; + There is a time-piece which appears a tower, + And there are twelve black men who strike the hour. + +Social prejudices creep in where politics are almost excluded. A group +of _Vilote_ relates to the feud--old as Venice--between the islanders +of San Nicolo and the islanders of Castello, the two sections of the +town east of the Grand Canal, in the first of which stands St Mark's, +in the last the arsenal. The best account of the two factions is +embodied in an ancient poem celebrating the fight that rendered +memorable St Simon's Day, 1521. The anonymous writer tells his tale +with an impartiality that might be envied by greater historians, and +he ends by putting a canto of peaceable advice into the mouth of a +dying champion, who urges his countrymen to dwell in harmony and love +one another as brothers. Are they not made of the same flesh and bone, +children alike of St Mark and his State? + + Tuti a la fin no semio patrioti, + Cresciu in sti campi, ste cale e cantoni? + +The counsel was not taken, and the old rivalry continued unabated, +fostered up to a certain point by the Republic, which saw in it, +amongst other things, a check on the power of the patricians. The +two sides represented the aristocratic and democratic elements of +the population: the Castellani had wealth and birth and fine palaces, +their upper classes monopolised the high offices of State, their lower +classes worked in the arsenal, served as pilots to the men-of-war, and +acted as rowers in the Bucentaur. The better-to-do Nicoloti came off +with a share of the secondary employs, whilst the larger portion of +the San Nicolo folk were poor fishermen. But their sense of personal +dignity was intense. They had a doge of their own, usually an old +sailor, who on high days and holidays sat beside the "renowned prince, +the Duke of Venice." This doge, or _Gastaldo dei Nicoloti_, was +answerable for the conduct of his people, of whom he was at once +superior and equal. "Ti voghi el dose et mi vogo col dose" ("You row +the doge, I row with the doge"), a Nicoloto would say to his rival. +It is easy to see how the party spirit engendered by the old feud +produced a sentiment of independence in even the poorest members +of the community, and how it thus became of great service to the +Republic. Its principal drawback was that of leading to hard blows, +the last occasion of its doing so being St Simon's Day, 1817, when a +fierce local outbreak was severely suppressed by the Austrians. Since +then the contending forces have agreed to dwell in harmony; whether +they love one another as brothers is not so clear. There are songs +still sung in which mutual recrimination takes the form of too strong +language for ears polite. "If a Nicoloto is born, a Count is born; if +a Castellan is born--set up the gallows," is the mildest dictum of a +son of San Nicolo, to which his neighbour replies, "When a Castellan +is born, a god is born; when a Nicoloto is born, a brigand is born." +The feud lingers on even in the matter of love. "Who is that youth who +passes so often?" inquires a girl; "if it be a Castellan, bid him be +off; if it be a Nicoloto, bid him come in." + +On the night of the Redeemer (in July) still takes place what was +perhaps one of the most ancient of Venetian customs. A fantastic +illumination, a bridge of boats, a people's ball, a prize-giving to +the best gondolas, a promiscuous wandering about the public gardens, +these form some of the features of the festival. But its most +remarkable point is the expedition to the Lido at three o'clock in the +morning to see the dawn. As the sun rises from his cradle of eastern +gold, he is greeted by the shout of thousands. Many of the youths leap +into the water and disport themselves like wild creatures of the sea. + +A word in conclusion as to the dialect in which Venetian songs are +composed. The earliest specimen extant consists in the distich-- + + Lom po far e die in pensar + E vega quelo che li po inchiontrar, + +which is to be read on the façade of St Mark's, opposite the ducal +palace. The meaning is, Look before you leap--an adage well suited +to the people who had the reputation of being the most prudent in the +world. This inscription belongs to the twelfth century. There used to +be a song sung at Ascension-tide on the occasion of the marriage of +the doge with the Adriatic, of which the signification of the words +was lost and only the sound preserved. It is a pity that it was never +written out phonetically; for modern scholars would probably have +proved equal to the task of interpreting it, even as they have given +us the secret of the runes on the neck of the Greek lion at the +arsenal. We owe to Dante a line of early Venetian--one of those +tantalising fragments of dialect poems in his posthumous work, _De +Vulgari Eloquentia_--fragments perhaps jotted down with the intention +of copying the full stanzas had he lived to finish the treatise. +Students have long been puzzled by Dante's judgment on the Venetian +dialect, which he said was so harsh that it made the conversation of +a woman resemble that of a man. The greatest master of the Italian +tongue was ruthless in his condemnation of its less perfect forms, +to the knowledge of which he was all the same indebted in no slight +degree. But it must not be overlooked that the question in Dante's day +was whether Italy should have a language or whether the nation should +go on oscillating between Latin and _patois_. For reasons patriotic +and political quite as much as literary, Dante's heart was set on the +adoption of one "illustrious, cardinal, aulic and polite" speech by +the country at large, and to that end he contributed incalculably, +though less by his treatise than by his poem. The involuntary hatred +of _patois_ as an outward sign of disunion has reappeared again in +some of those who in our own time have done and suffered most for +united Italy. Thus I once heard Signor Benedetto Cairoli say: "When +we were children, our mother would on no account let us speak anything +but good Italian." It is possible that Dante's strong feeling on the +subject made him unjust. It is also possible that the Venetian and the +other dialects have undergone a radical change, though this is not so +likely as may at first be supposed. A piece of nonsense written in the +seventeenth century gives an admirable idea of what the popular idiom +was then and is now: + + Mi son tanto inamorao + In dona Nina mia vesina + Che me dà gran disciplina, + Che me vedo desparao. + Gnao bao, bao gnao, + Mi son tanto inamorao! + + Mi me sento tanti afani + (Tuti i porto per so amore!) + Che par proprio che sia cani + Ch'al mi cor fazza brusore; + Che da tute quante l'ore + Mi me sento passionao. + Gnao bao, bao gnao, + Mi son tanto inamorao! + +In most respects Venetian would approach closely to standard Italian +were it not for the pronunciation; yet to the uneducated Venetian, +Italian sounds very strange. A maid-servant who had picked up a few +purely Italian words, was found to be under the delusion that she had +been learning English. The Venetian is unable to detect a foreigner by +his accent. An English traveller had been talking for some while to a +woman of Burano, when she asked in all seriousness, "Are you a Roman?" +A deficiency of grammar, a richness in expressive colloquialisms, and +the possession of certain terms of Greek origin, constitute the main +features of the Venetian dialect as it is known to us. It was used by +the Republic in the affairs of state, and it was generally understood +throughout Italy, because, as Evelyn records, all the world repaired +to Venice "to see the folly and madnesse of the Carnevall." With the +exception of Dante, every one seems to have been struck by its merits, +of which the chief, to modern ears, are vivacity and an exceeding +softness. It can boast of much elegant lettered poetry, as well as of +Goldoni's best comedies. To the reading of the latter when a child, +Alfieri traced his particular partiality for "the jargon of the +lagunes." Byron declared that its _naïveté_ was always pleasant in +the mouth of a woman, and George Sand mentions it approvingly as "ce +gentil parler Vénitien, fait à ce qu'il me semble pour la bouche des +enfants." + + + + +SICILIAN FOLK-SONG. + + +L'Isola del Fuoco--the Isle of Fire, as Dante named it--is singularly +rich in poetic associations. Acis, the sweet wood-born stream, +Galatea, the calm of the summer sea, and how many more flower-children +of a world which had not learned to "look before and after," of a +people who deified nature and naturalised deity, and felt at one with +both, send us thence across the ages the fragrance of their immortal +youth. Our mind's magic lantern shows us Sappho and Alcæus welcomed +in Sicily as guests, Pindar writing his Sicilian Odes, the mighty +Æschylus, burdened always perhaps with a sorrow--untainted by fretful +anger--because of that slight, sprung from the enthusiasm for the +younger poet, the heat of politics, we know not what, which drove him +forth from Athens: yet withal solaced by the homage paid to his grey +hairs, and not ill-content to die + + On the bank of Gela productive of corn. + +To Sicily we trace the germs of Greek comedy, and the addition of the +epode to the strophe and anti-strophe. We remember the story of how, +when the greatness of Athens had gone to wreck off Syracuse, a few +of the starving slaves in the _latomiæ_ were told they were free men, +thanks to their ability to recite passages from Euripides; we remember +also that new story, narrated in English verse, of the adventure which +befell the Rhodian maid Balaustion, on these Sicilian shores, and of +the good stead stood her by the knowledge of _Alcestis_. We think +of Sicily as the birth-place of the Idyllists, the soil which bore +through them an aftermath of Grecian song thick with blossom as the +last autumn yield of Alpine meads. Then by a strange transformation +scene we get a glimpse of Arabian Kasîdes hymning the beauties of the +Conca d'Oro, and as these disappear, arise the forms of the poets of +whom Petrarch says-- + + ... i Sicilian! + Che fur già primi + +--those wonderful poet discoverers, more wonderful as discoverers than +as poets, who found out that a new music was to be made in a tongue, +not Latin, nor yet Provençal--a tongue which had grown into life under +the double foster-fathership of Arabian culture and Norman rule, the +_lingua cortigiana_ of the palaces of Palermo, the "common speech" of +Dante. When we recollect how the earliest written essays in Italian +were composed in what once was styled Sicilian, it seems a trifle +unfair for the practical adaptator--in this case as often happens in +the case of individuals--to have so completely borne away the glory +from the original inventor as to cause the latter to be all but +forgotten. We now hear only of the "sweet Tuscan tongue," and even +the pure pronunciation of educated Sicilians is not admitted without +a comment of surprise. But whilst the people of Tuscany quickly +assimilated the _lingua cortigiana_ and made it their own, the people +of Sicily stuck fast to their old wild-flower language, and left +ungathered the gigantic lily nurtured in Palermitan hot-houses and +carried by the great Florentine into heaven and hell. They continued +speaking, not the Sicilian we call Italian, but the Sicilian we call +patois--the Sicilian of the folk-songs. The study of Italic dialects +is one by no means ill-calculated to repay the trouble bestowed +upon it, and that from a point of view not connected with their +philological aspect. How far, or it may be I should say, how soon they +will die out, in presence of the political unity of the country, and +of the general modern tendency towards the adoption of standard forms +of language, it is not quite easy to decide. Were we not aware of the +astonishing rapidity with which dialects, like some other things, may +give way when once the least breach is opened, we might suppose +that those of Italy were good for many hundred years. Even the +upper classes have not yet abandoned them: it is said that there +are deputies at Monte Citorio who find the flow of their ideas sadly +baulked by the parliamentary etiquette which expects them to be +delivered in Italian. And the country-people are still so strongly +attached to their respective idioms as to incline them to believe +that they are the "real right thing," to the disadvantage of all +competitors. Not long ago, a Lombard peasant-woman employed as nurse +to a neuralgic Sicilian gentleman who spoke as correctly as any +Tuscan, assured a third person with whom she chatted in her own +dialect--it was at a bath establishment--that her patient did not know +a single word of Italian! But it is reported that in some parts of +Italy the peasants are beginning to forget their songs; and when +a generation or two has lived through the æra of facile +inter-communication that makes Reggio but two or three days' journey +from Turin, when every full-grown man has served his term of military +service in districts far removed from his home, the vitality of the +various dialects will be put to a severe test. Come when it may, the +change will have in it much that is desirable for Italy: of this there +can be no question; nor can it be disputed that as a whole standard +Italian offers a more complete and plastic medium of expression than +Venetian, or Neapolitan, or Sicilian. Nevertheless, in the mouth of +the people the local dialects have a charm which standard Italian has +not--a charm that consists in clothing their thought after a +fashion which, like the national peasant costumes, has an essential +suitability to the purpose it is used for, and while wanting neither +grace nor richness, suggests no comparisons that can reflect upon it +unfavourably. The naïve ditty of a poet of Termini or Partinico is +too much a thing _sui generis_ for it to suffer by contrast with the +faultless finish of a sonnet in _Vita di Madonna Laura_. + +Sicily is notoriously richer in songs than any province of the +mainland; Vigo collected 5000, and the number of those since written +down seems almost incredible. It has even been conjectured that Sicily +was the original fountain-head of Italian popular poetry, and that it +is still the source of the greater part of the songs which circulate +through Italy.[A] Songs that rhyme imperfectly in the Tuscan version +have been found correct when put into Sicilian, a fact which points +to the island as their first home. Dr Pitrè, however, deprecates +such speculations as premature, and when so distinguished and so +conscientious an investigator bids us suspend our judgment, we can do +no better than to obey. What can be stated with confidence is, that +popular songs are inveterate travellers, and fly from place to place, +no one knows how, at much the same electrical rate as news spreads +amongst the people--a phenomenon of which the more we convince +ourselves that the only explanation is the commonplace one that lies +on the surface, the more amazing and even mysterious does it appear. + + [Footnote A: "Noi crediamo ... che il Canto popolare italiano + sia nativo di Sicilia. Nè con questo intendiamo asserire che + le plebi delle altre provincie sieno prive di poetica facoltà, + e che non vi sieno poesie popolari sorte in altre regioni + italiane, ed ivi cresciute e di là diramate attorno. Ma + crediamo che, nella maggior parte des casi, il Canto abbia per + patria di origine l'Isola, e per patria di adozione la + Toscana: che, nato con veste di dialetto in Sicilia, in + Toscana abbia assunto forma illustre e comune, e con siffatta + veste novella sia migrato nelle altre provincie."--_La Poesia + Popolare Italiana: Studj di Alessandro d'Ancona_, p. 285.] + +As regards the date of the origin of folk-songs in Sicily, the boldest +guess possibly comes nearest the truth, and this takes us back to a +time before Theocritus. Cautious students rest satisfied with adducing +undoubted evidence of their existence as early as the twelfth century, +in the reign of William II., whose court was famed for "good speakers +in rhyme of _every condition_." Moreover, it is certain that Sicilian +songs had begun to travel orally and in writing to the Continent +considerably before the invention of printing; and it is not unlikely +that many _canzuni_ now current in the island could lay claim to an +antiquity of at least six or seven hundred years. Folk-songs change +much less than might at first sight be expected in the course of their +transmission from father to son, from century to century; and some +among the songs still popular in Sicily have been discovered written +down in old manuscripts in a form almost identical to that in which +they are sung to-day. Although the methodical collection of folk-songs +is a thing but recently undertaken, the fact of there being such songs +in Sicily was long ago perfectly well known. An English traveller +writing in the last century remarks, that "the whole nation are poets, +even the peasants, and a man stands a poor chance for a mistress that +is not capable of celebrating her." He goes on to say, that happily in +the matter of serenades the obligations of a chivalrous lover are not +so onerous as they were in the days of the Spaniards, when a fair +dame would frown upon the most devoted swain who had not a cold in his +head--the presumed proof of his having dutifully spent the night "with +the heavens for his house, the stars for his shelter, the damp earth +for his mattress, and for pillow a harsh thistle"--to borrow the exact +words of a folk-poet. + +One class of folk-songs may be fairly trusted to speak for themselves +as to the date of their composition, namely, that which deals with +historical facts and personages. Until lately the songs of Italy were +believed, with the exception of Piedmont, to be of an exclusively +lyrical character; but fresh researches, and, above all, the +unremitting and enthusiastic efforts of Signor Salvatore +Salomone-Marino, have brought to light a goodly quantity of Sicilian +songs in which the Greek, Arabian, Norman, and Angevin denominations +all come in for their share of commemoration. And that the authors +of these songs spoke of the present, not of the past, is a natural +inference, when actual observation certifies that such is the +invariable custom of living folk-poets. For the people events soon +pass into a misty perspective, and the folk-poet is a sort of people's +journalist; he makes his song as the contributor to a newspaper writes +his leading article, about the matter uppermost for the moment in +men's minds, whether it be important or trivial. In 1860 he sang +of "the bringers of the tricolor," the "milli famusi guirreri," and +"Aribaldi lu libiraturi." In 1868 he joked over the grand innovation +by which "the poor folk of the piazza were sent to Paradise in a fine +coach," _i.e._, the substitution, by order of the municipality of +Palermo, of first, second, and third class funeral cars in lieu of the +old system of bearers. In 1870 he was very curious about the eclipse +which had been predicted. "We shall see if God confirms this news that +the learned tell us, of the war there is going to be between the moon +and the sun," says he, discreetly careful not to tie himself down to +too much faith or too much distrust. Then, when the eclipse has +duly taken place, his admiration knows no bounds. "What heads--what +beautiful minds God gives these learned men!" he cries; "what grace +is granted to man that he can read even the thoughts of God!" The +Franco-German war inspired a great many poets, who displayed, at all +events in the first stages of the struggle, a strong predilection for +the German side. All these songs long survive the period of the events +they allude to, and help materially to keep their memory alive; but +for a new song to be composed on an incident ten years old, would +simply argue that its author was not a folk-poet at all, in the strict +sense of the word. The great majority of the historical songs are +short, detached pieces, bearing no relation to each other; but now and +then we come upon a group of stanzas which suggest the idea of their +having once formed part of a consecutive whole; and in one instance, +that of the historical legend of the Baronessa di Carini, the +assembled fragments approach the proportions of a popular epic. But +it is doubtful whether this poem--for so we may call it--is thoroughly +popular in origin, though the people have completely adopted it, and +account it "the most beautiful and most dolorous of all the histories +and songs," thinking all the more of it in consequence of the profound +secrecy with which it has been preserved out of fear of provoking +the wrath of a powerful Sicilian family, very roughly handled by its +author. + +Of religious songs there are a vast number in Sicily, and the stock is +perpetually fed by the pious rhyme tournaments held in celebration of +notable saints' days at the village fairs. On such occasions the image +or relics of the saints are exhibited in the public square, and +the competitors, the assembled poetic talent of the neighbourhood, +proceed, one after the other, to improvise verses in his honour. If +they succeed in gaining the suffrage of their audience, which may +amount to five or six thousand persons, they go home liberally +rewarded. Along with these saintly eulogiums may be mentioned a style +of composition more ancient than edifying--the Sicilian parodies. +A pious or complimentary song is travestied into a piece of coarse +abuse, or a sample of that unblushing, astounding irreverence which +sometimes startles the most hardened sceptic, travelling in countries +where the empire of Catholicism has been least shaken--in Tyrol, +for instance, and in Spain. We cannot be sure whether the Sicilian +parodist deliberately intends to be profane, or is only indifferent as +to what weapons he uses in his eagerness to cast ridicule upon a rival +versifier--the last hypothesis seems to me to be the most plausible; +but it takes nothing from the significance of his profanity as it +stands. It is pleasant to turn from these several sections of Sicilian +verse, which, though valuable in helping us to know the people from +whom they spring, for the most part have but small merits when judged +as poetry, to the stream of genuine song which flows side by side with +them: a stream, fresh, clear, pure: a poesy always true in its artless +art, generally bright and ingenious in its imagery, sometimes tersely +felicitous in its expression. In his love lyrics, and but rarely save +in them, the Sicilian _popolano_ rises from the rhymester to the poet. + +The most characteristic forms of the love-songs of Sicily are those of +the _ciuri_, called in Tuscany _stornelli_, and the _canzuni_, called +in Tuscany _rispetti_. The _ciuri_ (flowers) are couplets or triplets +beginning with the name of a flower, with which the other line +or lines should rhyme. They abound throughout the island, and +notwithstanding the poor estimation in which the peasants hold them, +and the difficulty of persuading them that they are worth putting +on record, a very dainty compliment--just the thing to figure on +a valentine--may often be found compressed into their diminutive +compass. To turn such airy nothings into a language foreign and +uncongenial to them, is like manipulating a soap-bubble: the bubble +vanishes, and we have only a little soapy water left in the hollow +of our hand: a simile which unhappily is not far from holding good of +attempts at translating any species of Italian popular poetry. It +is true that in _Fra Lippo Lippi_ there are two or three charming +imitations of the _stornello_; but, then, Mr Browning is the poet who, +of all others, has got most inside of the Italian mind. Here is an +_aubade_, which will give a notion of the unsubstantial stuff the +_ciuri_ are made of: + + Rosa marina, + Lucinu l'alba e la stidda Diana: + Lu cantu è fattu, addui, duci Rusina. + +"Rose of the sea, the dawn and the star Diana are shining: the song is +done, farewell sweet Rosina." + +One of these flower-poets, invoking the Violet by way of heading, +tells his love that "all men who look on her forget their sorrows;" +another takes his oath that she outrivals sun, and moon, and stars. +"Jasmine of Araby," cries a third, "when thou art not near, I am +consumed by rage." A fourth says, "White floweret, before thy door I +make a great weeping." A fifth, night and day, bewails his evil fate. +A sixth observes that he has been singing for five hours, but that +he might just as well sing to the wind. A seventh feels the thorns +of jealousy. An eighth asks, "Who knows if Rosa will not listen to +another lover?" A ninth exclaims, + + Flower of the night, + Whoever wills me ill shall die to-night! + +With which ominous sentiment I will leave the _ciuri_, and pass on +to the yet more interesting _canzuni_: little poems, usually in eight +lines, of which there are so many thousand graceful specimens that it +is embarrassing to have to make a selection. + +Despite the wide gulf which separates lettered from illiterate poetry, +it is curious to note the not unfrequent coincidence between the +thought of the ignorant peasant bard and that of cultured poets. In +particular, we are now and then reminded of the pretty conceits of +Herrick, and also of the blithe paganism, the happy unconsciousness +that "Pan is dead," which lay in the nature of that most incongruous +of country parsons. Thus we find a parallel to "Gather ye Rosebuds:" + + Sweet, let us pick the fresh and opening rose, + Which doth each charm of form and hue display: + Hard by the margent of yon font it blows, + Mid guarding thorns and many a tufted spray; + And in yourself while springtide freshly glows, + Dear heart, with some sweet bloom my love repay: + Soon winter comes, all flowers to nip and close, + Nor love itself can hinder time's decay. + +No poet is more determined to deal out his compliments in a liberal, +open-handed way than is the Sicilian. While the Venetians and the +Tuscans are content with claiming seven distinctive beauties for +the object of their affection, the Sicilian boldly asserts that his +_bedda_ possesses no less than thirty-three _biddizzi_. In the same +manner, when he is about sending his salutations, he sends them +without stint: + + Many the stars that sparkle in the sky, + Many the grains of sand and pebbles small; + And in the ocean's plains the finny fry + And leaves that flourish in the woods and fall, + Countless earth's human hordes that live and die, + The flowers that wake to life at April's call, + And all the fruits the summer heats supply-- + My greetings sent to thee out-number all. + +On some rare occasions the incident which suggested the song may be +gathered from the lips of the person who recites it. In one case we +are told that a certain sailor, on his return from a long voyage, +hastened to the house of his betrothed, to bid her prepare for the +wedding. But he was met by the mother-in-law elect, who told him to go +his way, for his love was dead--the truth being that she had meanwhile +married a shoemaker. One fine day the disconsolate sailor had the not +unmixed gratification of seeing her alive and well, looking out of her +husband's house, and that night he sang her a reproachful serenade, +inquiring wherefore she had hidden from him, that though dead to him +she lived for another? This deceived mariner must have been a +rather exceptional individual, for although there are baker-poets, +carpenter-poets, waggoner-poets, poets in short of almost every branch +of labour and humble trade, a sailor-poet is not often to be heard of. +Dr Pitrè remarks that sailors pick up foreign songs in their voyages, +mostly English and American, and come home inclined to look down upon +the folk-songs and singers of their native land. + +The serenades and aubades are among the most delicate and elegant of +all the _canzuni d'amuri_; this is one, which contains a favourite +fancy of peasant lovers: + + Life of my life, who art my spirit and soul, + By no suspicions be nor doubts oppressed, + Love me, and scorn false jealousy's control-- + I not a thousand hearts have in my breast, + I had but one, and gave to thee the whole. + Come then and see, if thou the truth wouldst test, + Instead of my own heart, my love, my soul, + Thou wilt thine image find within my breast! + +Another poet treats somewhat the same idea in a drolly realistic way-- + + Last night I dreamt we both were dead, + And, love! beside each other laid. + Doctors and Surgeons filled the place + To make autopsy of the case-- + Knives, scissors, saws, with eager zest + Of each laid open wide the breast:-- + Dumfounded then was every one, + Yours held two hearts, but mine had none! + +The _canzuni_ differ very much as to adherence to the strict laws of +rhyme and metre; more often than not assonants are readily accepted in +place of rhymes, and their entire absence has been thought to cast a +suspicion of education on the author of a song. One truly illiterate +living folk-poet was, however, heard severely to criticise some of the +printed _canzuni_ which were read aloud to him, on just this ground of +irregularity of metre and rhyme. His name is Salvatore Calafiore, and +he was employed a few years ago in a foundry at Palermo, where he was +known among the workmen as "the poet." Being very poor, and having a +young wife and family to support, he bethought himself of appealing to +the proprietor of the foundry for a rise of wages, but the expedient +was hazardous: those who made complaints ran a great chance of getting +nothing by it save dismissal. So he offered up his petition in a +little poem to this effect: "As the poor little hungry serpent comes +out of its hole in search of food, heeding not the risk of being +crushed, thus Calafiore, timorous and hard-pressed, O most just sir, +asks of you help!" Calafiore was once asked what he knew about the +classical characters whose names he introduced into his poems: he +answered that some one had told him of them who knew little more of +them than he did. He added that "Jove was God of heaven, Apollo god of +music, Venus the planet of love, Cicero a good orator." On the whole, +the folk-poets are not very lavish in mythological allusion; when they +do make it, it is ordinarily fairly appropriate. "Wherever thou dost +place thy feet," runs a Borgetto _canzuna_, "carnations and roses, +and a thousand divers flowers, are born. My beautiful one, the goddess +Venus has promised thee seven and twenty things--new gardens, new +heavens, new songs of birds in the spot where thou dost take thy +rest." The Siren is one of the ancient myths most in favour: at +Partinico they sing: + + Within her sea-girt home the Siren dwells + And lures the spell-bound sailor with her lay, + Amid the shoals the fated bark compels + Or holds upon the reef a willing prey, + None ever 'scape her toils, while sinks and swells + Her rhythmic chant at close and break of day-- + Thou, Maiden, art the Siren of the sea, + Who with thy songs dost hold and fetter me. + +It is rarely indeed that we can trace a couple of these lyrics to the +same brain--we may not say "to the same hand," for the folk-poet's +hand is taken up with striking the anvil or guiding the plough; to +more intellectual uses he does not put it--yet expressing as they do +emotions which are not only the same at bottom, but are here felt and +regarded in precisely the same way, there results so much unity of +design and execution, that, as we read, unawares the songs weave +themselves into slight pastoral idylls--typical peasant romances in +which real _contadini_ speak to us of the new life wrought in them +by love. Even the repeated mention of the Sicilian diminutives of +the names of Salvatore and Rosina helps the illusion that a thread of +personal identity connects together many of the fugitive _canzuni_. +Thus we are tempted to imagine Turiddu and Rusidda as a pair of lovers +dwelling in the sunny Conca d'Oro--he "so sweet and beautiful a youth, +that God himself must surely have fashioned him"--a youth with "black +and laughing eyes, and a little mouth from whence drops honey:" she a +maiden of + + ... quattordicianni, + L'occhi cilestri e li capiddi biunni-- + +"fourteen years, celestial eyes, blonde hair;" to see her long tresses +"shining like gold spun by the angels," one would think "that she +had just fallen out of Paradise." "She is fairer than the foam of the +sea"-- + + "My little Rose in January born, + Born in the month of cold and drifted snow, + Its whiteness stays thy beauty to adorn, + Nought than thy velvet skin more white can show. + Thou art the star that shines, tho' bright the morn, + And casts on all around a silver glow." + +But Rusidda's mother will have nothing to say to poor Turiddu; he +complains, "Ah! God, what grief to have a tongue and not to be able to +speak; to see her and dare not make any sign! Ah, God in heaven, and +Virgin Mary, tell me what I am to do? I look at her, she looks at me, +neither I nor she can say a word!" Then an idea strikes him; he gets a +friend to take her a message: "When we pass each other in the street, +we must not let the folk see that we are in love, but you will lower +your eyes and I will lower my head; this shall be our way of saluting +one another. Every saint has his day, we must await ours." Encouraged +by this stratagem, Turiddu grows bold, and one dark night, when none +can see who it is, he serenades his "little Rose:" + + "Sleep, sleep, my hope, yea sleep, nor be afraid, + Sleep, sleep, my hope, in confidence serene, + For if we both in the same scales be weighed, + But little difference will be found between. + Have you for me unfeignèd love displayed, + My love for you shall greater still be seen. + If we could both in the same scales be weighed, + But small the difference would be found between." + +He does not think the song nearly good enough for her: "I know not +what song I can sing that is worthy of you," he says: he wishes he +were "a goldfinch or a nightingale, and had no equal for singing;" or, +better still, he would fain "have an angel come and sing her a song +that had never before been heard of out Paradise," for in Paradise +alone can a song be found appropriate to her. One day (it is Rusidda's +fête-day), Turiddu makes a little poem, and says in it: "All in roses +would I be clad, for I am in love with roses; I would have palaces +and little houses of roses, and a ship with roses decked, and a little +staircase all of roses, which I the fortunate one would ascend; but +ere I go up it, I wish to say to you, my darling, that for you I +languish." He watches her go to church: "how beautiful she is! Her air +is that of a noble lady!" The mother lingers behind with her gossips, +and Turiddu whispers to Rusidda, "All but the crown you look like a +queen." She answers: "If there rode hither a king with his crown who +said, 'I should like to place it on your head,' I should say this +little word, 'I want Turiddu, I want no crown.'" Turiddu tells her he +is sick from melancholy: "it is a sickness which the doctors cannot +cure, and you and I both suffer from it. It will only go away the day +we go to church together." + +But there seems no prospect of their getting married; Turiddu sends +his love four sighs, "e tutti quattru suspiri d'amuri:" + + "Four sighs I breathe and send thee, + Which from my heart love forces; + Health with the first attend thee, + The next our love discourses; + The third a kiss comes stealing; + The fourth before thee kneeling; + And all hard fate accusing + Thee to my sight refusing." + +And now he has to go upon a long journey; but before he starts he +contrives one meeting with Rusidda. "Though I shall no longer see +you, we yet may hope, for death is the only real parting," he says. "I +would have you constant, firm, and faithful; I would have you faithful +even unto death." She answers, "If I should die, still would my spirit +stay with you." A year passes; on Rusidda's _festa_ a letter arrives +from Turiddu: "Go, letter mine, written in my blood, go to my dear +delight; happy paper! you will touch the white hand of my love. I am +far away, and cannot speak to her; paper, do you speak for me." + +At last Turiddu returns--but where is Rusidda? "Ye stars that are in +the infinite heavens, give me news of my love!" + +Through the night "he wanders like the moon," he wanders seeking his +love. In his path he encounters Brown Death. "Seek her no more," says +this one; "I have her under the sod. If you do not believe me, my fine +fellow, go to San Francesco, and take up the stone of the sepulchre: +there you will find her." ... Alas! "love begins with sweetness and +ends in bitterness." + +The Sicilian's "Beautiful ideal" would seem to be the white rose +rather than the red, in accordance, perhaps, with the rule that makes +the uncommon always the most prized; or it may be, from a perception +of that touch of the unearthly, that pale radiance which gives the +fair Southerner a look of closer kinship with the pensive Madonna +gazing out of her aureole in the wayside shrine, than with the dark +damsels of the more predominant type. Some such angelical association +attached to golden heads has possibly disposed the Sicilian +folk-poet towards thinking too little of the national black eyes and +olive-carnation colouring. Not that brunettes are wholly without +their singers; one of these has even the courage to say that since his +_bedda_ is brown and the moon is white, it is plain that the moon must +leave the field vanquished. One dark beauty of Termini shows that she +is quite equal to standing up for herself. "You say that I am black?" +she cries, "and what of that? Black writing looks well on white paper, +black spices are worth more than white curds, and while dusky wine +is drunk in a glass goblet, the snow melts away unregarded in the +ditch."[1] But the apologetic, albeit spirited tone of this protest, +indicates pretty clearly that the popular voice gives the palm to +milk-white and snowy faced maidens; the possessors of _capiddi biunni_ +and _capidduzzi d'oru_ have no need to defend their charms, a hundred +canzuni proclaim them irresistible. "Before everything I am enamoured +of thy blonde tresses," says one lyrist. The luxuriant hair of the +Sicilian women is proverbial. A story is told how, when once Palermo +was about to surrender to the Saracens because there were no more +bowstrings in the town, an abundant supply was suddenly produced by +the patriotic dames cutting off their long locks and turning them to +this purpose. The deed so inspired the Palermitan warriors that they +speedily drove the enemy back, and the siege was raised. A gallant +poet adds: "The hair of our ladies is still employed in the same +office, but now it discharges no other shafts but those of Cupid, and +the only cords it forms are cords of love." + +In the early morning, almost all the year round the women may be +seen sitting before their doors undoing and doing up again this long +abundant hair. The chief part of their domestic work they perform out +in the sunshine; one thing only, but that the most important of all, +has to be done in the house--the never finished task of weaving the +clothes of the family. From earliest girlhood to past middle age the +Sicilian women spend many hours every day at the loom. A woman +of eighty, Rosa Cataldi of Borgetto, made the noble boast to +Salomone-Marino: "I have clothed with stuff woven by my hands from +fourteen to fifty years, myself, my brothers, my children, and their +children." A girl who cannot, or will not, weave is not likely to +find a husband. As they ply the shuttle, the women hardly cease from +singing, and many, and excellent also, are the songs composed in +praise of the active workers. The girl, not yet affianced, who is +weaving perhaps her modest marriage clothes, may hear, coming up from +the street, the first avowal of love: + + Ciuri d'aranci. + Bedda, tu tessi e tessennu mi vinci; + Bedda, tu canti, e lu me' cori chianci. + +It has been said that love begins with sweetness and ends in +bitterness. What a fine world it would be were Brown Death the only +agent in the bitter end of love! It is not so. Rusidda, who dies, is +possibly more fortunate than Rusidda who is married. When bride +and bridegroom return from the marriage rite, the husband sometimes +solemnly strikes his wife in presence of the assembled guests as a +sign of his henceforth unlimited authority. The symbol has but too +great appropriateness. Even in what may be called a happy marriage, +there is a formality akin to estrangement, once the knot is tied. +Husband and wife say "voi" to each other, talking to a third person, +they speak of one another as "he" and "she," as "mio cristiano," and +"mia cristiana," never as "my husband" and "my wife." The wife sits +down to table with the husband, but she scrupulously waits for him to +begin first, and takes tiny mouthfuls as if she were ashamed of eating +before him. Then, if the husband be out of humour, or if he thinks +that the wife does not work hard enough (an "enough" which can +never be reached), the nuptial blow is repeated in sad and miserable +earnest. The woman will not even weep; she bears all in silence, +saying meekly afterwards, "We women are always in the wrong, the +husband is the husband, he has a right even to kill us since we live +by him." These things have been recorded by one who loves the Sicilian +peasant, and who has defended him against many unfounded charges. A +hard case it would be for wedded Rusidda if she had not her songs and +the sun to console her. + +All the _canzuni_ that have been quoted are, so far as can be judged, +of strictly popular origin, nor is there any sign of continental +derivation in their wording or shape. Several, however, are the +common property of most of the Italian provinces. There is a charming +Vicentine version of "The Siren," and the "Four Sighs" makes its +appearance in Tuscany under a dress of pure Italian. Has Sicily, +then, a right to the honour of their invention? There is a +strong presumption that it has. On the other hand, there are some +Sicilianized songs of plainly foreign birth, which shows that if the +island gave much to the peninsula, it has had at least something back +in return. There is a third category, comprising the songs of the +Lombard colonies of Piazza and San Fratello, which have a purely +accidental connection with Sicily. The founders of this community were +Lombards or Longobards, who were attracted to Sicily somewhere in +the eleventh century, either by the fine climate and the demand for +soldiers of fortune, or by the marriage of Adelaide of Monferrato with +Count Roger of Hauteville. But what is far more curious than how or +why they came, is the circumstance of the extraordinary isolation in +which they seem to have lived, and their preservation to this day of +a dialect analogous with that spoken at Monferrato. In this dialect +there exist a good many songs, but a full collection of them has yet +to be made. + +Besides the _ciuri_ and _canzuni_, there is another style of +love-song, very highly esteemed by the Sicilian peasantry, and that +is the _aria_. When a peasant youth serenades his _'nnamurata_ with an +_aria_, he pays her by common consent the most consummate compliment +that lies in his power. The _arii_ are songs of four or more +stanzas--a form which is not so germane to the Sicilian folk-poet as +that of the _canzuna_; and, although he does use it occasionally, +it may be suspected that he more often adapts a lettered or foreign +_aria_ than composes a new one. An aria is nothing unless sung to a +guitar accompaniment, and is heard to great advantage when performed +by the barbers, who are in the habit of whiling away their idle hours +with that instrument. The Sicilian (lettered) poet, Giovanni Meli, +has written some admirable _arii_, many of which have become popular +songs. + +Meli's name is as oddly yoked with the title of _abate_ as Herrick's +with the designation of clergyman. He does not seem, as a matter of +fact, to have ever been an _abate_ at all. Once, when dining with a +person influential at court, his host inquired why he did not ask to +be appointed to a rich benefice then vacant. "Because," he replied, "I +am not a priest." And it appeared that when a young man he had adopted +the clerical habit for no other reason than that he intended to +practise medicine, and wished to gain access to convents, and to make +himself acceptable to the nuns. It was not an uncommon thing to do. +The public generally dubbed him with the ecclesiastical title. Not +long before his death, in 1815, he actually assumed the lesser orders, +and in true Sicilian fashion, wrote some verses to his powerful friend +to beg him to get him preferment, but he died too soon after to profit +by the result. The Sicilians are very proud of Meli. It is for them +alone probably to find much pleasure in his occasional odes--to others +their noble sentiments will be rather suggestive of the _sinfonia +eroica_ played on a flute; but the charm and lightness of his +Anacreontic poems must be recognised by all who care for poetry. He +had a nice feeling for nature too, as is shown in a sonnet of rare +beauty: + + Ye gentle hills, with intercepting vales, + Ye rocks with musk and clinging ivy dight; + Ye sparkling falls of water, silvery pale, + Still meres, and brooks that babble in the light; + Deep chasms, wooded steeps that heaven assail, + Unfruitful rushes, broom with blossoms bright, + And ancient trunks, encased in gnarled mail, + And caves adorned with crystal stalactite; + Thou solitary bird of plaintive song, + Echo that all dost hear, and then repeat, + Frail vines upheld by stately elms and strong, + And silent mist, and shade, and dim retreat; + Welcome me! tranquil scenes for which I long-- + The friend of haunts where peace and quiet meet. + +I must not omit to say a word about a class of songs which, in +Sicily as elsewhere, affords the most curious illustration of the +universality of certain branches of folk-lore--I mean the nursery +rhymes. One instance of this will serve for all. Sicilian nurses play +a sort of game on the babies' features, which consists in lightly +touching nose, mouth, eyes, &c., giving a caressing slap to the chin, +and repeating at the same time-- + + Varvaruttedu, + Vucca d'aneddu, + Nasu affilatu, + Occhi di stiddi, + Frunti quatrata, + E te' ccà 'na timpulata! + +Now this rhyme has not only its counterpart in the local dialect of +every Italian province, but also in most European languages. In France +they have it: + + Beau front, + Petits yeux, + Nez cancan, + Bouche d'argent, + Menton fleuri, + Chichirichi. + +We find a similar doggerel in Germany, and in England, as most people +know, there are at least two versions, one being-- + + Eye winker, + Tom Tinker, + Nose dropper. + Mouth eater, + Chinchopper, + Chinchopper. + +Of more intrinsic interest than this ubiquitous old nurse's nonsense +are the Sicilian cradle songs, in some of which there may also +be traced a family likeness with the corresponding songs of other +nations. As soon as the little Sicilian gets up in the morning he is +made to say-- + + While I lay in my bed five saints stood by; + Three at the head, two at the foot--in the midst was Jesus Christ. + +The Greek-speaking peasants of Terra d'Otranto have a song somewhat +after the same plan: + + I lay me down to sleep in my little bed; I lay me down to + sleep with my Mamma Mary: the Mamma Mary goes hence and leaves + me Christ to keep me company. + +Very tender is the four-line Sicilian hushaby, in which the proud +mother says-- + + How beautiful my son is in his swaddling clothes; just think + what he will be when he is big! Sleep, my babe, for the angel + passes: he takes from thee heaviness, and he leaves thee + slumber. + +There is in Vigo's collection a lullaby so exquisite in its blended +echoes from the cradle and the grave that it makes one wish for two +great masters in the pathos of childish things, such as Blake and +Schumann, to translate and set it to music. It is called "The Widow." + + Sweet, my child, in slumber lie, + Father's dead, is dead and gone. + Sleep then, sleep, my little son, + Sleep, my son, and lullaby. + + Thou for kisses dost not cry, + Which thy cheeks he heaped upon. + Sleep then, sleep, my pretty one, + Sleep, my child, and lullaby. + + We are lonely, thou and I, + And with grief and fear I faint. + Sleep then, sleep, my little saint, + Sleep, my child, and lullaby. + + Why dost weep? No father nigh. + Ah, my God! tears break his rest. + Darling, nestle to my breast, + Sleep, my child, and lullaby. + +Very scant information is to be had regarding the Sicilian folk-poets +of the past; with one exception their names and personalities have +almost wholly slipped out of the memory of the people, and that +exception is full three parts a myth. If you ask a Sicilian popolano +who was the chief and master of all rustic poets, he will promptly +answer, "Pietro Fullone;" and he will tell you a string of stories +about the poetic quarry-workman, dissolute in youth, devout in +old age, whose fame was as great as his fortune was small, and who +addressed a troop of admiring strangers who had travelled to Palermo +to visit him, and were surprised to find him in rags, in the following +dignified strain: + + Beneath these pilgrim weeds so coarse and worn + A heart may still be found of priceless worth. + The rose is ever coupled to the thorn. + The spotless lily springs from blackest earth. + Rubies and precious stones are only born + Amidst the rugged rocks, uncouth and swarth. + Then wonder not though till the end I wear + Nought but this pilgrim raiment poor and bare. + +Unfortunately nothing is more sure than that the real Pietro Fullone, +who lived in the 17th century, and published some volumes of poetry, +mostly religious, had as little to do with this legendary Fullone as +can well be imagined. It is credible that he may have begun life as +a quarry workman and ignorant poet, as tradition reports; but it is +neither credible that a tithe of the _canzuna_ attributed to him +are by the same author as the writer of the printed and distinctly +lettered poems which bear his name, nor that the bulk of the anecdotes +which profess to relate to him have any other foundation than that of +popular fiction. But though we hear but little, and cannot trust the +little we hear, of the folk-poet of times gone by, for us to +become intimately acquainted with him, we have only to go to his +representative, who lives and poetizes at the present moment. In +this or that Sicilian hamlet there is a man known by the name of "the +Poet," or perhaps "the Goldfinch." He is completely illiterate and +belongs to the poorest class; he is a blacksmith, a fisherman, or +a tiller of the soil. If he has the gift of improvisation, his +fellow-villagers have the satisfaction of hearing him applauded by the +Great Public--the dwellers in all the surrounding hamlets assembled at +the fair on St John's Eve. Or it may be he is of a meditative turn of +mind, and makes his poetry leisurely as he lies full length under +the lemon-trees taking his noontide rest. Should you pass by, it is +unlikely he will give himself the trouble of lifting his eyes: He +could not say the alphabet to save his life; but the beautiful earth +and skies and sea which he has looked on every day since he was born +have taught him some things not learnt in school. The little poem he +has made in his head is indeed a humble sort of poetry, but it is not +unworthy of the praise it gets from the neighbours who come dropping +into his cottage door, uninvited, but sure of a friendly welcome next +Sunday after mass, their errand being to find out if the rumour is +true that "the Goldfinch" has invented a fresh _canzuna_? + +Such is the peasant poet of to-day; such he was five hundred or a +thousand years ago. He presents a not unlovely picture of a stage in +civilisation which is not ours. To-morrow it will not be his either; +he will learn to read and write; he will taste the fruit of the Tree +of the Knowledge of Good and Evil as it grows in our great centres +of intellectual activity; he will begin to "look before and after." +Still, he will do all this in his own way, not in our way, and so much +of his childhood having clung to him in youth, it follows that his +youth will not wholly depart from him in manhood. Through all the +wonderfully mixed vicissitudes of his country the Sicilian has +preserved an unique continuity of spiritual life; Christianity +itself brought him to the brink of no moral cataclysm like that which +engulfed the Norseman when he forsook Odin and Thor for the White +Christ. It may therefore be anticipated that the new epoch he is +entering upon will modify, not change his character. That he has +remained outside of it so long, is due rather to the conditions under +which he has lived than to the man; for the Sicilian grasps new ideas +with an almost alarming rapidity when once he gets hold of them; +of all quick Italians he is the quickest of apprehension. This very +intelligence of his, called into action by the lawlessness of his +rulers and by ages of political tyranny and social oppression, has +enabled him to accomplish that systemization of crime which at one +time bred the Society of the Blessed Pauls, and now is manifested in +the Mafia. You cannot do any business harmless or harmful, you +cannot buy or sell, beg or steal, without feeling the hand of an +unacknowledged but ever present power which decides for you what you +are to do, and levies a tax on whatever profit you may get out of +the transaction. If a costermonger sells a melon for less than the +established price, his fellows consider that they are only executing +the laws of their real masters when they make him pay for his temerity +with his life. The wife of an English naval officer went with her maid +to the market at Palermo, and asked the price of a fish which, it was +stated, cost two francs. She passed on to another stall where a fish +of the same sort was offered her for 1.50. She said she would buy it, +and took out of her purse a note for five _lire_, which she gave the +vendor to change. Meanwhile, unobserved, the first man had come up +behind them, and no sooner was the bargain concluded, than he whipped +a knife out of his pocket, and in a moment more would have plunged it +in the second man's breast, had not the lady pushed back his arm, +and cried by some sudden inspiration, "Wait, he has not given me my +change!" No imaginable words would have served their purpose so well; +the man dropped the knife, burst out laughing, and exclaimed: "Che +coraggio!" The brave Englishwoman nearly fainted when she returned +home. Her husband asked what was the matter, to which she answered: "I +have saved a man's life, and I have no idea how I did it." + +Something has been done to lessen the hereditary evil, but the cure +has yet to come. It behoves the Sicilians of a near future to stamp +out this plague spot on the face of their beautiful island, and thus +allow it to garner the full harvest of prosperity lying in its mineral +wealth and in the incomparable fertility of its soil. That it is only +too probable that the people will lose their lyre in proportion as +they learn their letters is a poor reason for us to bid them stand +still while the world moves on; human progress is rarely achieved +without some sacrifices--the one sacrifice we may not make, whatever +be the apparent gain, is that of truth and the pursuit of it. + + [Footnote 1: So Virgil: + + "Alba ligustra cadunt, vaccinia nigra leguntur." + ] + + + + +GREEK SONGS OF CALABRIA. + + +That the connecting link between Calabria and Greece was at one time +completely cut in two, is an assumption which is commonly made, but +it is scarcely a proved fact. What happened to the Italian Greeks on +their surrender to Rome? In a few instances they certainly disappeared +with extreme rapidity. Aristoxenus, the peripatetic musician, relates +of the Poseidonians--"whose fate it was, having been originally Greek, +to be barbarised, becoming Tuscans or Romans," that they still met to +keep one annual festival, at which, after commemorating their ancient +customs, they wept together over their lost nationality. This is +the pathetic record of men who could not hope. In a little while, +Poseidonia was an obscure Roman town famous only for its beautiful +roses. But the process of "barbarisation" was not everywhere so swift. +Along the coast-line from Rhegium to Tarentum, Magna Græcia, in the +strict use of the term, the people are known to have clung so long +to their old language and their old conditions of life that it is at +least open to doubt if they were not clinging to them still when it +came to be again a habit with Greeks to seek an Italian home. In the +ninth and tenth centuries the tide of Byzantine supremacy swept into +Calabria from Constantinople, only, however, to subside almost as +suddenly as it advanced. Once more history well-nigh loses sight of +the Greeks of Italy. Yet at a moment of critical importance to modern +learning their existence was honourably felt. Petrarch's friend and +master, Barlaam, who carried the forgotten knowledge of Homer across +the Alps, was by birth a Calabrian. In Barlaam's day there were large +communities of Greeks both in Calabria and in Terra d'Otranto. A +steady decrease from then till now has brought their numbers down to +about 22,800 souls in all. These few survivors speak a language which +is substantially the same as modern Greek, with the exceptions that it +is naturally affected by the surrounding Italic dialects and that it +contains hardly a Turkish or a Sclavonic word. Their precise origin is +still a subject of conjecture. Soon after Niebuhr had hailed them as +Magna Græcians pure and simple, they were pronounced offhand to be +quite recent immigrants; then the date of their arrival was assigned +to the reign of the first or second Basil; and lastly there is a +growing tendency to push it back still further and even to admit that +some strain of the blood of the original colonists may have entered +into the elements of their descent. On the whole, it seems easier to +believe that though their idiom was divided from the Romaic, it yet +underwent much the same series of modifications, than to suppose them +to have been in Greece when the language of that country was saturated +with Sclavonic phrases, which have only been partly weeded out within +the last thirty years. + +Henry Swinburne visited the Greek settlements in 1780 or thereabouts, +but like most of his contemporaries he mixes up the Greek with the +Albanians, of whom there are considerable colonies in Calabria, dating +from the death of Skanderbeg. Even in this century a German savant +was assured at Naples that the so-called Greeks were one and all +Albanians. The confusion is not taken as a compliment. No one has +stayed in the Hellenic kingdom without noticing the pride that goes +along with the name of Greek--a pride which it is excusable to smile +at, but which yet has both its touching and its practical aspect, for +it has remade a nation. The Greeks of Southern Italy have always had +their share of a like feeling. "We are not ashamed of our race, +Greeks we are, and we glory in it," wrote De Ferraris, a Greek born +at Galatone in 1444, and the words would be warmly endorsed by the +enlightened citizens of Bova and Ammendolea, who quarrel as to which +of the two places gave birth to Praxiteles. The letterless classes do +not understand the grounds of the Magna Græcian pretensions, but they +too have a vague pleasure in calling themselves Greek and a vague idea +of superiority over their "Latin" fellow-countrymen. "Wake up," sings +the peasant of Martignano in Terra d'Otranto, "wake up early to hear a +Grecian lay, so that the Latins may not learn it." + + Fsunna, fsunna, na cusi ena sonetto + Grico, na mi to matun i Latini. + +Bova is the chief place in Calabria where Greek survives. The +inhabitants call it "Vua," or simply "Hora." The word "hora," _the +city_, is applied by the Greeks of Terra d'Otranto to that part of +their hamlets which an Englishman would call "the old village." It is +not generally known that "city" is used in an identical sense by old +country-folks in the English Eastern counties. The Bovesi make a third +of the whole Greek-speaking population of Calabria, and Bova has the +dignity of being an episcopal seat, though its bishop has moved his +residence to the Marina, a sort of seaside suburb, five miles distant +from the town. Thirty years ago the ecclesiastical authorities were +already agitating for the transfer, but the people opposed it till the +completion of the railway to Reggio and the opening of a station at +the Marina di Bova settled the case against them. The cathedral, the +four or five lesser churches, the citadel, even the Ghetto, all tell +of the unwritten age of Bova's prosperity. Old street-names perpetuate +the memory of the familiar spirits of the place; the Lamiæ who lived +in a particular quarter, the _Fullitto_ who frequented the lane under +the cathedral wall. Ignoring Praxiteles, the poorer Bovesi set faith +in a tradition that their ancestors dwelt on the coast, and that it +was in consequence of Saracenic incursions that they abandoned their +homes and built a town on the crags of Aspromonte near the lofty +pastures to which herds of cattle (_bovi_) were driven in the summer. +The name of Bova would thus be accounted for, and its site bears out +the idea that it was chosen as a refuge. The little Greek city hangs +in air. To more than one traveller toiling up to it by the old Reggio +route it has seemed suggestive of an optical delusion. There is +refreshment to be had on the way: a feast for the sight in pink and +white flowers of gigantic oleanders; a feast for the taste in the +sweet and perfumed fruit of the wild vine. Still it is disturbing +to see your destination suspended above your head at a distance that +seems to get longer instead of shorter. Some comfort may be got from +hearing Greek spoken at Ammendolea, itself an eyrie, and again at +Condufuri. A last, long, resolute effort brings you, in spite of your +forebodings, to Bova, real as far as stones and fountains, men and +women, and lightly-clothed children can make it; yet still half a +dream, you think, when you sit on the terrace at sunset and look +across the blue Ionian to the outline, unbroken from base to crown, of +"Snowy Ætna, nurse of endless frost, the prop of heaven." + +There is plenty of activity among the Greeks of Calabria Ultra. Many +of them contrive to get a livelihood out of the chase; game of +every sort abounds, and wolves are not extinct. In the mountaineers' +cottages, which shelter a remarkable range of animals, an infant wolf +sometimes lies down with a tame sheep; whilst on the table hops a +domesticated eagle, taken when young from its nest in defiance of +the stones dropped upon the robber by the outraged parent-birds. The +peasants till the soil, sow corn, plant vegetables, harvest the olives +and grapes, gather the prickly pears, make cheese, tend cattle, and +are wise in the care of hives. It is a kind of wisdom of which their +race has ever had the secret. The Greek Calabrians love bees as they +were loved by the idyllic poets. "Ehi tin cardia to melissa" ("he has +the heart of a bee"), is said of a kindly and helpful man. Sicilian +Hybla cannot have yielded more excellent honey than Bova and +Ammendolea. It is sad to think of, but it is stated on good authority +that the people of those lofty cities quarrel over their honey as much +as about Praxiteles. Somehow envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness +find a way into the best of real idylls. You may live at the top of +a mountain and cordially detest your neighbour. The folk of Condufuri +greet the folk of Bova as Vutáni dogs, which is answered by the +epithet of Spesi-spásu, all the more disagreeable because nobody knows +what it means. In Terra d'Otranto the dwellers in the various Greek +hamlets call each other thieves, asses, simpletons, and necromancers. +The Italian peasants are inclined to class Greeks and Albanians alike +in the category of "Turchi," and though the word Turk, as used by +Italians, in some cases simply means foreign, it is a questionable +term to apply to individuals. The Greeks, with curious scorn, are +content to fling back the charge of Latin blood. + +When the day's work is done, comes the frugal evening meal; a dish of +_ricotta_, a glass of wine and snow. Wine is cheap in Calabria, where +the finest variety is of a white sweet kind called _Greco_; and the +heights of Aspromonte provide a supply of frozen snow, which is a +necessary rather than a luxury in this climate. About the hour of +Avemmaria the bagpipers approach. In the mountains the flocks +follow the wild notes of the "Zampogna" or "Ceramedda," unerringly +distinguishing the music of their own shepherd. A visit from the +Zampognari to hill-town, or village sets all the world on the alert. +There is gossiping, and dancing, and the singing of songs, in which +expression takes the place of air. Two young men sing together, +without accompaniment, or one sings alone, accompanied by bagpipe, +violin, and guitar. So the evening passes by, till the moon rises and +turns the brief, early darkness into a more glorified day. The little +hum of human sound dies in the silence of the hills; only perhaps a +single clear, sweet voice prolongs the monotone of love. + +The Italian complimentary alphabet is unknown to the Greek poets. The +person whom they address is not apostrophised as Beauty or Beloved, +or star, or angel, or _Fior eterno_, or _Delicatella mia_. They do not +carry about ready for use a pocketful of poetic-sugared rose-leaves, +nor have they the art of making each word serve as an act of homage or +a caress. It is true that "caxedda," a word that occurs frequently in +their songs, has been resolved by etymologists into "pupil of my eye;" +but for the people it means simply "maiden." The Greek Calabrian gives +one the impression of rarely saying a thing because it is a pretty +thing to say. If he treats a fanciful idea, he presents it, as it +were, in the rough. Take for instance the following:-- + + Oh! were I earth, and thou didst tread on me, + Or of thy shoe the sole, this too were sweet! + Or were I just the dress that covers thee, + So might I fall entangling round thy feet. + Were I the crock, and thou didst strike on me, + And we two stooped to catch the waters fleet; + Or were I just the dress that covers thee, + So without me thou couldst not cross the street. + +Here the fancy is the mere servant of the thought behind it. The lover +does not figure himself as the fly on the cheek of his mistress, or +the flower on her breast. There is no intrinsic prettiness in the +common earth or the common water-vessel, in the sole of a worn shoe, +or in a workaday gown. + +It cannot be pretended that the Greek is so advanced in untaught +culture as some of his Italian brothers; in fact there are specimens +of the _Sonetto Grico_ which are so bald and prosaic that the "Latins" +might not be at much pains to learn them even were they sung at +noonday. The Titianesque glow which illuminates the plain materials +of Venetian song must not be looked for. What will be found +in Græco-Calabrian poesy is a strong appearance of sincerity, +supplemented at times by an almost startling revelation of tender and +chivalrous feeling. To these Greek poets of Calabria love is another +name for self-sacrifice. "I marvel how so fair a face can have a heart +so tyrannous, in that thou bearest thyself so haughtily towards me, +while for thee I take no rest; and thou dost as thou wilt, because +I love thee--if needs be that I should pour out my blood with all my +heart for thee, I will do it." This is love which discerns in its own +depths the cause of its defeat. A reproach suggestive of Heine in +its mocking bitterness changes in less than a moment to a cry of +despairing entreaty-- + + I know you love me not, say what you may, + I'll not believe, no, no, my faithless one; + With all the rest I see you laugh and play, + 'Tis only I, I only whom you shun. + Ah, could I follow where you lead the way: + The obstinate thoughts upon your traces run + Make me a feint of love, though you have none, + For I must think upon you night and day. + +The scene is easily pictured: the bravery of words at meeting, all the +just displeasure of many a day bursting forth; then the cessation of +anger in the beloved presence and the final unconditional surrender. A +lighter mood succeeds, but love's royal clemency is still the text: + + Say, little girl, what have I done to thee, + What have I done to thee that thou art dumb? + Oft wouldst thou seek me once, such friends were we, + But now thou goest away whene'er I come. + If thou hast missed in aught, why quick, confess it, + For thee this heart will all, yes all, forgive; + If miss be mine, contrive that I should guess it; + And soon the thing shall finish, as I live! + +The dutiful lover rings all the changes on humble remonstrance: + + I go where I may see thee all alone, + So I may kneel before thee on the ground, + And ask of thee how is it that unknown + Unto thy heart is every prick and wound? + Canst thou not see that e'en my breath is flown, + Thinking of thee while still the days go round? + If thou wouldst not that I should quickly die, + Love only me and bid the rest good-bye. + +He might as well speak to the winds or to the stones, and he admits +as much. "Whensoever I pass I sing to make thee glad; if I do not come +for a few hours I send thee a greeting with my eyes. But thou dost act +the deaf and likewise the dumb: pity thou hast none for my tears." +If he fails to fulfil his prophecy of dying outright, at any rate he +falls into the old age of youth, which arrives as soon as the bank of +hope breaks: + + Come night, come day, one only thought have I, + Which graven on my heart must ever stay; + Grey grows my hair and dismal age draws nigh, + Wilt thou not cease the tyrant's part to play? + Thou seem'st a very Turk for cruelty, + Of Barbary a very Turk I say; + I know not why thy love thou dost deny, + Or why with hate my love thou dost repay. + +This may be compared with a song taken down from the mouth of a +peasant near Reggio, an amusing illustration of the kind of thing in +favour with Calabrian herdsmen:-- + + Angelical thou art and not terrene, + Who dost kings' wives excel in loveliness! + Thou art a pearl, or Grecian Helen, I ween, + For whom Troy town was brought to sore distress; + Thine are the locks which graced the Magdalene, + Lucrece of Rome did scarce thy worth possess: + If thou art pitiless to me, oh, my Queen, + No Christian thou, a Turk, and nothing less! + +A glance at the daughter of Greek Calabria will throw some light on +the plaints of her devoted suitors. The name she bears = _Dihatera_, +brings directly to mind the Sanskrit _Duhita_; and the vocation of the +Græco-Calabrian girl is often as purely pastoral as that of the Aryan +milkmaid who stood sponsor for so large a part of maidenhood in +Asia and in Europe. She is sent out into the hills to keep sheep; a +circumstance not ignored by the shepherd lad who sits in the shade and +trills on his treble reed. Ewe's milk is as much esteemed as in the +days of Theocritus; it forms the staple of the inevitable _ricotta_. +In the house the Greek damsel never has her hands idle. She knows how +to make the mysterious cakes and comfits, for which the stranger is +bound to have as large an appetite in Calabria as in the isles of +Greece. A light heart lightens her work, whatever it be. "You sit on +the doorstep and laugh as you wind the reels, then you go to the +loom, _e ecínda magna travudia travudia_" ("and sing those beautiful +songs"). So says the ill-starred poet, who discovers to his cost that +it is just this inexhaustible merriment that lends a sharp edge to +maiden cruelty. "I have loved you since you were a little thing, never +can you leave my heart; you bound me with a light chain; my mind +and your mind were one. Now,"--such is the melancholy outcome of it +all--"now you are a perfect little fox to me, while you will join in +any frolic with the others." The fair tyrant develops an originality +of thought which surprises her best friends: "Ever since you were +beloved, you have always an idea and an opinion!" It is beyond human +power to account for her caprices: "You are like a fay in the rainbow, +showing not one colour, but a thousand." When trouble comes to her as +it comes to all--when she has a slight experience of the pain she +is so ready to inflict--she does not meekly bow her head and suffer. +"Manamu," cries a girl who seems to have been neglected for some one +of higher stature. "Mother mine, I have got a little letter, and all +sorts of despair. _She_ is tall, and _I_ am little, and I have not the +power to tear her in pieces!"--as she has probably torn the sheet of +paper which brought the unwelcome intelligence. She goes on to say +that she will put up a vow in a chapel, so as to be enabled to do +some personal, but not clearly explained damage to the cause of her +misfortunes. There is nothing new under the sun; the word "anathema" +originally meant a votive offering: one of those execratory tablets, +deposited in the sacred places, by means of which the ancient Greeks +committed their enemies to the wrath of the Infernal Goddesses. Mr +Newton has shown that it was the gentler sex which availed itself, by +far the most earnestly, of the privilege. Most likely our Lady of Hate +in Brittany would have the same tale to tell. Impotence seeks strange +ways to compass its revenge. + +In some extremities the lover has recourse, not indeed to anathemas, +but to irony. "I am not a reed," he protests, "that where you bend me +I should go; nor am I a leaf, that you should move me with a breath." +Then, after observing that poison has been poured on his fevered +vitals, he exclaims, "Give your love to others, and just see if they +will love you as I do!" One poet has arrived at the conclusion that +all the women of a particular street in Bova are hopelessly false: +"Did you ever see a shepherd wolf, or a fox minding chickens, or a pig +planting lettuces, or an ox, as sacristan, snuffing out tapers with +his horns? As soon will you find a woman of Cuveddi who keeps her +faith." Another begins his song with sympathy, but ends by uttering a +somewhat severe warning: + + Alas, alas! my heart it bleeds to see + How now thou goest along disconsolate; + And in thy sorrow I no help can be-- + My own poor heart is in a piteous state. + Come with sweet words--ah! come and doctor me, + And lift from off my heart this dolorous weight. + If thou come not, then none can pardon thee: + Go not to Rome for shrift; it is too late. + +The Calabrian Greek has more than his share of the pangs of unrequited +love; that it is so he assures us with an iteration that must prove +convincing. Still, some balm is left in Gilead. Even at Bova there +are maidens who do not think it essential to their dignity to act the +_rôle_ of Eunica. The poorest herdsman, the humblest shepherd, has a +chance of getting listened to; a poor, bare chance perhaps, but one +which unlocks the door to as much of happiness as there is in the +world. At least the accepted lover in the mountains of Calabria would +be unwilling to admit that there exists a greater felicity than his. +If he goes without shoes, still "love is enough:" + + Little I murmur against my load of woe-- + Our love will never fail, nor yet decline; + For to behold thy form contents me so, + To see thee laugh with those red lips of thine. + Dost thou say not a word when past I go? + This of thy love for me is most sure sign; + Our love will no decline or failing know + Till in the sky the sun shall cease to shine. + +Karro, the day-labourer (to whom we will give the credit of inventing +this song), would not, if he could, put one jot of his burden on +Filomena of the Red Lips. Provided she laughs, he is sufficiently +blest. It so happens that Filomena is his master's granddaughter; +hence, alas! the need of silence as the sign of love. The wealthy old +peasant has sworn that the child of his dead son shall never wed a +penniless lad, who might have starved last winter if he had not given +him work to do, out of sheer charity. Karro comes to a desperate +resolution: he will go down to Reggio and make his fortune. When he +thinks it over, he feels quite confident of success: other folks have +brought back lots of money to Bova out of the great world, and why +should not he? In the early morning he calls Filomena to bid her a +cheerful farewell: + + Come hither! run! thy friend must go away; + Come with a kiss--the time is flying fast. + Sure am I thou thy word wilt not betray, + And for remembrance' sake my heart thou hast. + Weep not because I leave thee for a day-- + Nay, do not weep, for it will soon be past; + And, I advise thee, heed not if they say, + "Journeys like this long years are wont to last." + +Down at Reggio, Karro makes much poetry, and, were it not for his +defective education, one might think that he had been studying Byron: + + If I am forced far from thine eyes to go, + Doubt not, ah! never doubt my constancy; + The very truth I tell, if thou wouldst know-- + Distance makes stronger my fidelity. + On my sure faith how shouldst thou not rely? + How think through distance I can faithless grow? + Remember how I loved thee, and reply + If distance love like mine can overthrow. + +The fact is that he has not found fortune-making quite so quick a +business as he had hoped. To the sun he says, when it rises, "O Sun! +thou that travellest from east to west, if thou shouldst see her whom +I love, greet her from me, and see if she shall laugh. If she asks how +I fare, tell her that many are my ills; if she asks not this of thee, +never can I be consoled." One day, in the market place, he meets a +friend of his, Toto Sgrò, who has come from Bova with wine to sell. +Here is an opportunity of safely sending a _sonetto_ to the red-lipped +Filomena. The public letter-writer is resorted to. This functionary +gets out the stock of deep pink paper which is kept expressly in the +intention of enamoured clients, and says gravely "Proceed." "An ímme +lárga an' du lúcchiu tu dicússu," begins Karro. "Pray use a tongue +known to Christians," interposes the scribe. Toto Sgrò, who is +present, remarks in Greek that such insolence should be punished; but +Karro counsels peace, and racks his brains for a poem in the Calabrese +dialect. Most of the men of Bova can poetize in two languages. The +poem, which is produced after a moderate amount of labour, turns +chiefly on the idle talk of mischief-makers, who are sure to insinuate +that the absent are in the wrong. "The tongue of people is evil +speaking; it murmurs more than the water of the stream; it babbles +more than the water of the sea. But what ill can folks say of us if we +love each other? I love thee eternally. Love me, Filomena, and think +nothing about it." + + Amame, Filomena, e nu' pensare! + +Towards spring-time, Karro goes to Scilla to help in the sword-fish +taking; it is a bad year, and the venture does not succeed. He nearly +loses courage--fate seems so thoroughly against him. Just then he +hears a piece of news: at the _osteria_ there is an _Inglese_ who has +set his mind on the possession of a live wolf cub. "Mad, quite mad, +like all _Inglesi_," is the comment of the inhabitants of Scilla. +"Who ever heard of taking a live wolf?" Karro, as a mountaineer, sees +matters in a different light. Forthwith he has an interview with the +Englishman; then he vanishes from the scene for two months. "Poveru +giuvinetto," says the host at the inn, "he has been caught by an +old wolf instead of catching a young one!" At the end of the time, +however, Karro limps up to the door with an injured leg, and hardly +a rag left to cover him; but carrying on his back a sack holding two +wolf cubs, unhurt and tame as kittens. The gratified _Inglese_ gives a +bountiful reward; he is not the first of his race who has acted as the +_deus ex machina_ of a love-play on an Italian stage. Nothing remains +to be done but for Karro to hasten back to Bova. Yet a kind of +uneasiness mixes with his joy. What has Filomena been doing and +thinking all this while! He holds his heart in suspense at the sight +of her beauty: + + In all the world fair women met my gaze, + But none I saw who could with thee compare; + I saw the dames whom most the Rhegians praise, + And by the thought of thee they seemed not fair. + When thou art dressed to take the morning air + The sun stands still in wonder and amaze; + If thou shouldst scorn thy love of other days, + I go a wanderer, I know not where. + +The story ends well. Filomena proves as faithful as she is fair; +Karro's leg is quickly cured, and the old man gives his consent to the +marriage--nay more, feeble as he is now, he is glad to hand over the +whole management of the farm to his son-in-law. Thus the young couple +start in life with the three inestimable blessings which a Greek poet +reckons as representing the sum total of human prosperity: a full +granary, a dairy-house to make cheese in, and a fine pig. + +In collections of Tuscan and Sicilian songs it is common to find a +goodly number placed under the heading "Delle loro bellezze." The +Greek songs of Calabria that exactly answer to this description +are few. A new Zeuxis might successfully paint an unseen Tuscan or +Sicilian girl--local Anacreons by the score would give him the needful +details: the colour of the hair and eyes, the height, complexion, +breadth of shoulders, smallness of waist; nor would they forget to +mention the nobility of pose and carriage, _il leggiadro portamento +altero_, which is the crowning gift of women south of the Alps. It can +be recognized at once that the poets of Sicily and Tuscany have not +merely a vague admiration for beauty in general; they have an innate +artistic perception of what goes to constitute the particular form +of beauty before their eyes. Poorer in words and ideas, the Greek +Calabrian hardly knows what to say of his beloved, except that she is +_dulce ridentem_, "sweetly-laughing," and that she has small red lips, +between which he is sure that she must carry honey-- + + To meli ferri s' ettunda hilúcia ... + +He seems scarcely to notice whether she is fair or dark. Fortunately +it is not impossible to fill in the blank spaces in the picture. The +old Greek stamp has left a deep impression at home and abroad. Where +there were Greeks there are still men and women whose features are +cut, not moulded, and who have a peculiar symmetry of form, which is +not less characteristic though it has been less discussed. A friend +of mine, who accompanied the Expedition of the Thousand, was struck +by the conformity of the standard of proportion to be observed in the +women of certain country districts in Sicily with the rule followed in +Greek sculpture; it is a pity that the subject is not taken in hand +by some one who has more time to give to it than a volunteer on the +march. I have said "men _or_ women," for it is a strange fact that the +heritage of Greek beauty seems to fall to only one sex at a time. At +Athens and in Cyprus young men may be seen who would have done credit +to the gymnasia, but never a handsome girl; whilst at Arles, in +Sicily, and in Greek Calabria the women are easily first in the race. +The typical Græco-Calabrian maiden has soft light hair, a fairness of +skin which no summer heats can stain, and the straight outline of a +statue. There is another pattern of beauty in Calabria: low forehead, +straight, strongly-marked eyebrows, dark, blue, serious eyes, lithe +figure, elastic step. Place beside the women of the last type a man +dyed copper-colour, with black, lank locks, and the startled look of +a wild animal. The Greeks have many dark faces, and many ugly faces, +too; for that matter, uncompromising plainness was always amongst the +possibilities of an Hellenic physiognomy. But the beautiful dark girl +and her lank-locked companion do not belong to them. Whom they do +belong to is an open question; perhaps to those early Brettians who +dwelt in the forest of the Syla, despised by the Greeks as savages, +and docketed by the Romans, without rhyme or reason, as the +descendants of escaped criminals. Calabria offers an inviting field +to the ethnologist. It is probable that the juxtaposition of various +races has not led in any commensurate degree to a mixture of +blood. Each commune is a unit perpetually reformed out of the same +constituents. Till lately intermarriage was carried to such a pitch +that it was rare to meet with a man in a village who was not closely +related to every other inhabitant of it. + +The Greeks of Terra d'Otranto bear a strong physical resemblance to +the Greeks of Calabria Ultra. It is fifty or sixty years since the +Hon. R. Keppel Craven remarked a "striking regularity of feature and +beauty of complexion" in the women of Martano and Calimera. At Martano +they have a pretty song in praise of some incomparable maid: + + My Sun, where art thou going? Stay to see + How passing beautiful is she I love. + My Sun, that round and round the world dost move, + Hast thou seen any beautiful as she? + My Sun, that hast the whole world travelled round, + One beautiful as she thou hast not found! + +Next to his lady's laughter, the South Italian Greek worships the sun. +It is the only feature in nature to which he pays much heed. In common +with other forms of modern Greek the Calabrian possesses the beautiful +periphrase for sunset, _o íglio vasiléggui_ ([Greek: ho hêlios +basileuei]). Language, which is altogether a kind of poetry, has not +anything more profoundly poetic. There is a brisk, lively ring in the +"Sun up!" of the American Far West; but an intellectual Atlantic flows +between it and the Greek ascription of kingship, of heroship, to the +Day-giver at the end of his course-- + + Wie herrlich die Sonne dort untergeht, + So stirbt ein Held! Anbetungswürdig! + +When we were young, were not our hearts stirred to their inmost depths +by this? + +The love-songs of Bova include one composed by a young man who had the +ill-luck to get into prison. "Remember," he says, "the words I spoke +to thee when we were seated on the grass; for the love of Christ, +remember them, so as not to make my life a torment. Think not that I +shall stay in here for ever; already I have completed one day. But if +it should happen that thou art forgetful of my words, beyond a doubt +this prison awaits me!" The singer seems to wish it to be inferred +that his line of conduct in the given case will be such as to entitle +him to board and lodging at the expense of the state for the rest of +his days. In times still recent, prisoners at Bova could see and be +seen, and hear and be heard, through the bars. Thus the incarcerated +lover had not to wait long for an answer, which must have greatly +relieved his mind: "The words that thou didst say to me on the tender +grass, I remember them--I forget them not. I would not have thee +say them over again; but be sure I love thee. Night and day I go to +church, and of Christ I ask this grace: 'My Christ, make short the +hours--bring to me him whom I love!'" + +The Greeks have a crafty proverb, "If they see me I laugh; but if not, +I rob and run." A Græco-Italic word[1], _maheri_, or "poignard," has +been suggested as the origin of _Mafia_, the name of one of the two +great organisations for crime which poison the social atmosphere of +southern Italy. The way of looking upon an experience of the penalties +of the law, not as a retribution or a disgrace, but as a simple +mischance, still prevails in the provinces of the ex-kingdom of +Naples. "The prisons," says a Calabrian poet, "are made for honest +men." Yet the people of Calabria are rather to be charged with a +confusion of moral sense than with a completely debased morality. What +has been said of the modern Greek could with equal truth be said of +them, whether Greeks or otherwise: put them upon their point of honour +and they may be highly trusted. At a date when, in Sicily, no one +went unarmed, it was the habit in Calabria to leave doors and windows +unfastened during an absence of weeks or months; and it is still +remembered how, after the great earthquake of 1783, five Calabrians +who happened to be at Naples brought back to the treasury 200 ducats +(received by them out of the royal bounty) on learning, through +private sources, that their homesteads were safe. The sort of honesty +here involved is not so common as it might be, even under the best of +social conditions. + +In that year of catastrophe--1783--it is more than possible that some +of the Greek-speaking communities were swallowed up, leaving no trace +behind. Calabria was the theatre of a series of awful transformation +scenes; heroism and depravity took strange forms, and men intent on +pillage were as ready to rush into the tottering buildings as men +intent on rescue. A horrid rejoicing kept pace with terror and +despair. In contrast to all this was the surprising calmness +with which in some cases the ordeal was faced. At Oppido, a place +originally Greek, a pretty young woman, aged nineteen years, was +immured for thirty hours, and shortly after her husband had extricated +her she became a mother. Dolomieu asked what had been her thoughts in +her living tomb; to which she simply answered, "I waited." The Prince +of Scilla and four thousand people were swept into the sea by a single +volcanic wave. Only the mountains stood firm. Bova, piled against the +rock like a child's card-city, suffered no harm, whilst the most solid +structures on the shore and in the plain were pitched about as ships +in a storm. Still, in the popular belief the whole mischief was brewed +deep down in the innermost heart of Aspromonte. It may be that +the theory grew out of the immemorial dread inspired by the Bitter +Mount--a dread which seems in a way prophetic of the dark shadow it +was fated to cast across the fair page of Italian redemption. + +A thousand years ago every nook and cranny in the Calabrian mountains +had its Greek hermit. Now and then one of these anchorites descended +to the towns, and preached to flocks of penitents in the Greek idiom, +which was understood by all. Under Byzantine rule the people generally +adhered to the Greek rite; nor was it without the imposition of the +heavy hand of Rome that they were finally brought to renounce it. As +late as the sixteenth century the liturgies were performed in Greek +at Rossano, and perhaps much later in the hill-towns, where there +are women who still treasure up scraps of Greek prayers. Greek, in an +older sense than any attached to the ritual of the Eastern Church, is +the train of thought marked out in this line from a folk-song of Bova: +"O Juro pu en chi jerusia" ("The Lord who hath not age"). The Italian +imagines the Creator as an old man; witness, to take only one example, +the frescoes on the walls of the Pisan Campo Santo. A Tuscan +proverb, which means no evil, though it would not very well bear +translating--"Lascia fare a Dio che è Santo Vecchio"--shows how +in this, as in other respects, Italian art is but the concrete +presentation of Italian popular sentiment. The grander idea of "a +Divine power which grows not old" seems very like an exotic in Italy. +Without yielding too much to the weakness of seeking analogies, +one other coincidence may be mentioned in passing. The Greek mother +soothes her crying child by telling him that "the wild doves drink at +the _holy sea_." This "ago Thalassia" recalls the [Greek: hals dia] of +the greatest folk-poet who ever lived. _Thalassia_ is now replaced +in ordinary conversation by the Italian _mare_; indeed, in Terra +d'Otranto it is currently supposed to be the proper name of a saint. +The next step would naturally lead to the establishment of a cult of +St Thalassia; and this may have been the kind of way in which were +established a good many of those cults that pass for evidences of +nature-worship. + +The language of the Græco-Calabrian songs, mixed though it is with +numberless Calabrese corruptions, is still far more Greek than the +actual spoken tongue. So it always happens; poetry, whether the +highest or the lowest, is the shrine in which the purer forms +of speech are preserved. The Greeks of Calabria are at present +bi-lingual, reminding one of Horace's "Canusini more bilinguis." It +is a comparatively new state of things. Henry Swinburne says that the +women he saw knew only Greek or "Albanese," as he calls it, which, he +adds, "they pronounce with great sweetness of accent." The advance +of Calabrese is attended by the decline of Greek, and a systematic +examination of the latter has not been undertaken a moment too soon. +The good work, begun by Domenico Comparetti and Giuseppe Morosi, is +being completed by professor Astorre Pellegrini, who has published one +volume of _Studi sui dialetti Greco-Calabro di Bova_, which will be +followed in due course by a second instalment. I am glad to be able +to record my own debt to this excellent and most courteous scholar. +He informs me that he hopes to finish his researches by a thorough +inspection of the stones and mural tablets in Calabrian graveyards. +The dead have elsewhere told so much about the living that the best +results are to be anticipated. + +It need scarcely be said that the leavings of the past in the southern +extremity of Italy are not confined to the narrow space where a Greek +idiom is spoken. There is not even warrant for supposing them to lie +chiefly within that area. The talisman which the hunter or brigand +wears next to his heart, believing that it renders him invulnerable; +the bagpipe which calls the sheep in the hills, and which the wild +herds of swine follow docilely over the marshes; the faggot which the +youth throws upon his mother's threshold before he crosses it +after the day's toil; the kick, aimed against the house door, which +signifies the last summons of the debtor; the shout of "Barca!" raised +by boys who lie in wait to get the first glimpse of the returning +fishing fleet, expecting largess for the publication of the good +news; the chaff showered down by vine-dressers upon bashful maids +and country lads going home from market; the abuse of strangers who +venture into the vineyards at the vintage season--these are among the +things of the young world that may be sought in Calabria. + +Other things there are to take the mind back to the time when the +coins the peasant turns up with his hoe were fresh from the mint at +Locri, and when the mildest of philosophies was first-- + + ... dimly taught + In old Crotona; + +wild flowers as sweet as those that made Persephone forsake the plain +of Enna; maidens as fair as the five beautiful virgins after whom +Zeuxis painted his _Helen_; grasshoppers as loudly chirping as +the "cricket" that saved the prize to Eunomus; and, high in the +transparent air, the stars at which Pythagoras gazed straining his +ears to catch their eternal harmonies. + + [Footnote 1: In classical Greek, [Greek: machaira].] + + + + +FOLK SONGS OF PROVENCE. + + +On a day in the late autumn it happened to me to be standing at a +window looking down into an untidy back street at Avignon. It was a +way of getting through the hours between a busy morning and a busy +evening--hours which did not seem inclined to go. If ever man be +tempted to upbraid the slowness of the flight of time, it is surely +in the vacant intervals of travel. The prospect at the window could +hardly be called enlivening; by-and-by, however, the dulness of +the outlook was lessened a little. The sounds of a powerful and not +unmusical voice came along the street; people hastened to their doors, +and in a minute or so a young lame man made his appearance. He was +singing Provençal songs. Here was the last of the troubadours! + +If it needed some imagination to see in this humble minstrel the +representative of the courtly adepts in the gay science, still his +relationship to them was not purely fanciful. The itinerant singer +used to be the troubadour of the poor. No doubt his more illustrious +brother grudged him the name. "I am astonished," said Giraud Riquier +to Alfonso of Aragon, "that folks confound the troubadours with +those ignorant and uncouth persons who, as soon as they can play some +screeching instrument, go through the streets asking alms and singing +before a vile rabble;" and Alfonso answered that in future the noble +appellation of "joglaria" should be granted no longer to mountebanks +who went about with dancing dogs, goats, monkeys, or puppets, +imitating the song of birds, or for a meagre pittance singing before +people of base extraction, but that they should be called "bufos," +as in Lombardy. Giraud Riquier was not benevolently inclined when he +embodied in verse his protest and the King's endorsement of it; yet +his words now lend an ancient dignity to the class they were meant +to bring into contempt. The lame young man at Avignon had no dancing +dogs, nor did he mimic the song of birds--an art still practised +with wonderful skill in Italy.[1] He helped out his entertainment by +another device, one suitable to an age which reads; he sold printed +songs, and he presented "letters." If you bought two sous' worth of +songs you were entitled to a "letter." It has to be explained that +"letters" form a kind of fortune-telling, very popular in Provence. A +number of small scraps of paper are attached to a ring; you pull off +one at hazard, and on it you find a full account of the fate reserved +to you. Nothing more simple. As to the songs, loose sheets containing +four or five of them are to be had for fifteen centimes. I have seen +on the quay at Marseilles an open bookstall, where four thousand of +these songs are advertised for sale. Some are in Provençal, some in +French; many are interlarded with prose sentences, in which case +they are called "cansounetto émé parla." Formerly the same style of +composition bore the name of _cantefable_. The subjects chosen are +comic, or sentimental, or patriotic, or, again, simply local. There +is, for example, a dialogue between a proprietor and a lodger. +"Workman, why are you always grumbling?" asks the "moussu," who speaks +French, as do angels and upper-class people generally in Provençal +songs. "If your old quarters are to be pulled down, a fine new one +will be built instead. Ere long the town of Marseilles will become a +paradise, and the universe will exclaim, 'What a marvel! Fine palaces +replace miserable hovels!'" For all that, replies the workman in +Provençal patois, the abandonment of his old quarter costs a pang to +a child _deis Carmes_ (an old part of Marseilles, standing where the +Greek town stood). It was full of attraction to him. There his father +lived before him; there his friends had grown with him to manhood; +there he had brought up his children, and lived content. The +proprietor argues that it was far less clean than could be +wished--there was too much insectivorous activity in it. He tells the +workman that he can find a lodging, after all not very expensive, in +some brand-new building outside the town; the railway will bring +him to his work. Unconvinced, the workman returns to his refrain, +"Regreterai toujour moun vieil Marsïo." If the rhymes are bad, if the +subject is prosaic, we have here at least the force of a fact +pregnant with social danger. Is it only at Marseilles that the grand +improvements of modern days mean, for the man who lives by his labour, +the break-up of his home, the destruction of his household gods, the +dispersion of all that sweetened and hallowed his poverty? The songs +usually bear an author's name; but the authors of the original pieces, +though they may enjoy a solid popularity in Provence, are rarely known +to a wider fame. One of them, M. Marius Féraud, whose address I hold +in my hands, will be happy to compose songs or romances for marriages, +baptisms, and other such events, either in Provençal or in French, +introducing any surname and Christian name indicated, and arranging +the metre so as to suit the favourite tune of the person who orders +the poem. + +Street ditties occupy an intermediate place between literate and +illiterate poesy. Once the repertory of the itinerant _bufo_ was drawn +from a source which might be called popular without qualifying the +term. With the pilgrim and the roving apprentice he was a chief agent +in the diffusion of ballads. Even now he has a right to be remembered +in any account of the songs of Provence; but, having given him +mention, we must leave the streets to go to the well-heads of popular +inspiration--the straggling village, the isolated farm, the cottage +alone on the byeway. + +When in the present century there was a revival of Provençal +literature, after a suspension of some five hundred years, the poets +who devoted their not mean gifts to this labour of love discerned, +with true insight, that the only Provençal who was still thoroughly +alive was the peasant. Through the long lapse of time in the progress +of which Provence had lost its very name--becoming a thing of French +departments--the peasant, it was discovered, had not changed much; +acting on which discovery, the new Provençal school produced two works +of a value that could not have been reached had it been attempted +either to give an archaic dress to the ideas and interests of the +modern world, or to galvanise the dry bones of mediæval romance into a +dubious animation. These works are _Mirèio_ and _Margarido_. Mistral, +with the idealising touch of the imaginative artist, paints the +Provence of the valley of the Rhone, whilst Marius Trussy photographs +the ruder and wilder Provence of mountain and torrent. Taken together, +the two poems perfectly illustrate the _Wahrheit und Dichtung_ of the +life of the people whose songs we have to study. + +Since there is record of them the Provençals have danced and sung. +They may be said to have furnished songs and dances to all France, and +even to lands far beyond the border of France. A French critic relates +how, when he was young, he went night after night to a certain +theatre in Paris to see a dance performed by a company of English +pantomimists. The dancers gradually stripped a staff, or may-pole, +of its many-coloured ribbons, which became in their hands a sort +of moving kaleidoscope. This, that he thought at the time to be an +exclusively English invention, was the old Provençal dance of the +_olivette_. In the Carnival season dances of an analogous kind are +still performed, here and there; by bands of young men, who march in +appropriate costume from place to place, led by their harlequin and by +a player on the _galooubé_, the little pipe which should be considered +the national instrument of Provence. Harlequin improvises couplets +in a sarcastic vein, and the crowd of spectators is not slow to +apply each sally to some well-known person; whence it comes that Ash +Wednesday carries a sense of relief to many worthy individuals. May +brings with it more dances and milder songs. Young men plant a tree, +with a nosegay atop, before their sweethearts' doors, and then go +singing-- + + Lou premier jour de mai, + O Diou d'eime! + Quand tout se renouvelo + Rossignolet! + Quand tout se renouvelo. + +The great business of the month is sheep-shearing, a labour celebrated +in a special song. "When the month of May comes, the shearers come: +they shear by night, they shear by day; for a month, and a fortnight, +and three weeks they shear the wool of these white sheep." When the +shearers go, the washers come; when the washers go, the carders come; +then come the spinners, the weavers, the buyers, and the ragmen who +gather up the bits. Across the nonsense of which it is composed the +ditty reflects the old excitement caused in the lonely homesteads by +the annual visit of the plyers of these several trades, who turned +everything upside down and brought strange news of the world. At +harvest there was, and there is yet, a great gathering at the larger +farms. Troops of labourers assemble to do the needful work. Sometimes, +after the evening meal, a curious song called the "Reapers' Grace" +is sung before the men go to rest. It has two parts: the first is a +variation on the first chapter of Genesis. Adam and _nouestro maire +Evo_ are put into the Garden of Eden. Adam is forbidden to eat of the +fruit of life; he eats thereof, and the day of his death is foretold +him. He will be buried under a palm, a cypress, and an olive, and out +of the wood of the olive the Cross will be made. The second part, sung +to a quick, lively air, is an expression of goodwill to the master and +the mistress of the farm, every verse ending, "Adorem devotoment +Jesù eme Mario." A few years ago the harvest led on naturally to +the vintage. It is not so now. The vines of Provence, excellent +in themselves, though never turned to the same account as those +of Burgundy or Bordeaux, have been almost completely ruined by the +phylloxera. The Provençal was satisfied if his wine was good enough to +suit his own taste and that of his neighbours; thus he had not laid +by wealth to support him in the evil day that has come. "Is there no +help?" I asked of a man of the poorer class. "Only rain, much rain, +can do good," he answered, "and," he added, "we have not had a drop +for four months." The national disaster has been borne with the finest +fortitude, but in Provence at least there seems to be small faith in +any method of grappling with it. The vines, they say, are spoilt by +the attempt to submit them to an artificial deluge; so one after the +other, the peasant roots them up, and tries to plant cabbages or what +not. Three hundred years back the Provençals would have known what +measures to take: the offending insect would have been prosecuted. +Between 1545 and 1596 there was a run of these remarkable trials +at Arles. In 1565 the Arlesiens asked for the expulsion of the +grasshoppers. The case came before the Tribunal de l'Officialité, and +Maître Marin was assigned to the insects as counsel. He defended his +clients with much zeal. Since the accused had been created, he argued +that they were justified in eating what was necessary to them. The +opposite counsel cited the serpent in the Garden of Eden, and sundry +other animals mentioned in Scripture, as having incurred severe +penalties. The grasshoppers got the worst of it, and were ordered to +quit the territory, with a threat of anathematizatiom from the altar, +to be repeated till the last of them had obeyed the sentence of the +honourable court. + +One night in the winter of 1819 there was a frost which, had it been a +few times repeated, would have done as final mischief to the olives +as the phylloxera has done to the vines. The terror of that night is +remembered still. Corn, vine, and olive--these were the gifts of the +Greek to Provence, and the third is the most precious of all. The +olive has here an Eastern importance; the Provençals would see a +living truth in the story of how the trees said unto it, "Reign thou +over us." In the flowering season the slightest sharpness in the air +sends half the rural population bare-foot upon a pilgrimage to the +nearest St Briggitte or St Rossoline. The olive harvest is the +supreme event of the year. It has its song too. In the warm days of St +Martin's summer, says the late Damase Arbaud, some worker in the olive +woods will begin to sing of a sudden-- + + Ai rescountrat ma mio--diluns. + +It is a mere nonsense song respecting the meeting of a lover and his +lass on every day of the week, she being each day on her way to buy +provisions, and he giving her the invariable advice that she had +better come back, because it is raining. Were it the rarest poetry the +effect could be hardly more beautiful than it is. When the first voice +has sung, "I met my love ..." ascending slowly from a low note, the +whole group of olive-gatherers take it up, then the next, and again +the next, till the country-side is made all musical by the swell and +fall of sound sent forth from every grey coppice; and even long after +the nearer singers have ceased, others unseen in the distance still +raise the high-pitched call, "Come back, my love, come back! ... come +back!" + +On the first of November it is customary in Provence for families +to meet and dine. The fruits of the earth are garnered, the year's +business is over and done. The year has brought perhaps new faces into +the family; very likely it has taken old faces away. Towards evening +the bells begin to toll for the vigil of the feast of All Souls. Tears +come into the eyes of the older guests, and the children are hurried +off to bed. Why should they be present at this letting loose of grief? +To induce them to retire with good grace, they are allowed to take +with them what is left of the dessert--chestnuts, or grapes, or figs. +The child puts a portion of his spoils at the bottom of his bed for +the _armettes_: so are called the spirits of the dead who are still in +a state of relation with the living, not being yet finally translated +into their future abode. Children are told that if they are good the +_armettes_ will kiss them this night; if they are naughty, they will +scratch their little feet. + +The Provençal religious songs, poor though they are from a literary +point of view, yet possess more points of interest than can be +commonly looked for in folk-songs which treat of religion. They +contain frequent allusions to beliefs that have to be sought either +in the earliest apocryphal writings of the Christian æra, or in the +lately unearthed records of rabbinical tradition. Various of them +have regard to what is still, as M. Lenthéric says, "one of the great +popular emotions of the South of France"--the reputed presence there +of Mary Magdalene. M. Lenthéric is convinced that certain Jewish +Christians, flying from persecution at home, did come to Provence +(between the ports of which and the East there was constant +communication) a short time after the Crucifixion. He is further +inclined to give credit to the impression that Mary Magdalene and her +companions were among these fugitives. I will not go into the reasons +that have been urged against the story by English and German scholars; +it is enough for us that it is a popular credence of very ancient +origin. One side issue of it is particularly worth noting. A little +servant girl named Sara is supposed to have accompanied the Jewish +emigrants, and her the gypsies of Provence have adopted as their +patroness. Once a year they pay their respects to her tomb at Saintes +Maries de la Mer. This is almost the only case in which the gypsy race +has shown any disposition to identify itself with a religious cultus. +The fairy legend of Tarascon is another offshoot from the main +tradition. "Have you seen the Tarasque?" I was asked in the course +of a saunter through that town one cold morning between the hours +of seven and eight. It seemed that the original animal was kept in a +stall. To stimulate my anxiety to make its acquaintance I was handed +the portrait of a beast, half hedgehog, half hippopotamus, out of +whose somewhat human jaw dangled the legs of a small boy. Later I +heard the story from the lips of the sister of the landlord at the +primitive little inn; much did it gain from the vivacious grace of the +narrator, in whom there is as surely proof positive of a Greek descent +as can be seen in any of the more famous daughters of Arles. "When +the friends of our Lord landed in Provence, St Mary Magdalene went +to Sainte Baume, St Lazarus to Marseilles, and St Martha came here to +Tarascon. Now there was a terrible monster called the Tarasque, which +was desolating all the country round and carrying off all the young +children to eat. When St Martha was told of the straits the folks were +in, she went out to meet the monster with a piece of red ribbon in her +hand. Soon it came, snorting fire out of its nostrils; but the saint +threw the red ribbon over its neck, and lo! it grew quite still and +quiet, and followed her back into the town as if it had been a good +dog. To keep the memory of this marvel, we at Tarascon have a wooden +Tarasque, which we take round the town at Whitsuntide with much +rejoicing. About once in twenty years there is a very grand _fête_ +indeed, and people come from far, far off. I have--naturally--seen +this grand celebration only once." A gleam of coquetry lit up the +long eyes: our friend clearly did not wish to be supposed to have an +experience ranging over too long a period. Then she went on, "You must +know that at Beaucaire, just there across the Rhone, the folks have +been always ready to die of jealousy of our Tarasque. Once upon a +time they thought they would have one as well as we; so they made the +biggest Tarasque that ever had been dreamt of. How proud they were! +But, alas! when the day came to take it round the town, it was found +that it would not come out of the door of the workshop! Ah! those dear +Beaucairos!" This I believe to be a pure fable, like the rest; to the +good people of Tarascon it appears the most pleasing part of the whole +story. My informant added, with a merry laugh, "There came this way +an Englishman--a very sceptical Englishman. When he heard about the +difficulty of the Beaucairos he asked, 'Why did they not have recourse +to St Martha?'" + +As I have strayed into personal reminiscence, the record of one other +item of conversation will perhaps be allowed. That same morning I went +to breakfast at the house of a Provençal friend to meet the ablest +exponent of political positivism, the Radical deputy for Montmartre. +Over our host's strawberries (strawberries never end at Tarascon) I +imparted my newly acquired knowledge. When it came to the point of +saying that certain elderly persons were credibly stated to have +preserved a lively faith in the authenticity of the legend, M. +Clémenceau listened with a look of such unmistakable concern that I +said, half amused, "You do not believe much in poetry?" The answer +was characteristic. "Yes, I believe in it much; but is it necessary +to poetry that the people should credit such absurdities?" Is it +necessary? Possibly Marius Trussy, who inveighs so passionately +against "lou progrê," would say that it is. Anyhow the Tarasques of +the world are doomed; whether they will be without successors is a +different question. Some one has said that mankind has always lived +upon illusions, and always will, the essential thing being to change +the nature of these illusions from time to time, so as to bring them +into harmony with the spirit of the age. + +Provençal folk-songs have but few analogies with the literature which +heedlessly, though beyond recall, has been named Provençal. The poetry +of the Miejour was a literary orchid of the fabulous sort that has +neither root nor fruit. A chance stanza, addressed to some high-born +Blancoflour, finds its way occasionally into the popular verse of +Provence with the marks of lettered authorship still clinging to it; +but further than this the resemblance does not go. The love poets of +the people make use of a flower language, which is supposed to be a +legacy of the Moors. Thyme accompanies a declaration; the violet means +doubt or uneasiness; rosemary signifies complaint; nettles announce a +quarrel. The course of true love nowhere flows less smoothly than +in old Provence. As soon as a country girl is suspected of having a +liking for some youth, she is set upon by her family as if she were +guilty of a monstrous crime. A microscopic distinction of rank, a +divergence in politics, or a deficiency of money will be snatched +as the excuse for putting the lover under the ban of absolute +proscription. From the inexplicable obstacles placed in the way of +lovers it follows that a large proportion of Provençal marriages +are the result of an elopement. The expedient never fails; Provençal +parents do not lock up their runaway daughters in convents where no +one can get at them. The delinquents are married as fast as possible. +What is more, no evil is thought or spoken of them. To make assurance +doubly sure, a curious formality is observed. The girl calls upon two +persons, secretly convened for the purpose, to bear witness that she +carries off her lover, who afterwards protests that his part in the +comedy was purely passive. In less than twenty years the same drama +is enacted with Margarido, the daughter, in the _rôle_ of Mario the +mother. + + L'herbo que grio + Toujours reverdilho; + L'herbo d'amour + Reverdilho toujours. + +The plant of love grows where there are young hearts; but how comes +it that middle-aged hearts turn inevitably to cast iron? There is one +song which has the right to be accepted as the typical love-song of +Provence. Mistral adapted it to his own use, and it figures in his +poem as the "Chanson de Majali." My translation follows as closely +as may be after the popular version which is sung from the Comtat +Venaissin to the Var: + + Margaret! my first love, + Do not say me nay! + A morning music thou must have, + A waking roundelay. + --Your waking music irks me, + And irk me all who play; + If this goes on much longer + I'll drown myself one day. + --If this goes on much longer, + And thou wilt drown one day, + Why, then a swimmer I will be, + And save thee sans delay. + --If then a swimmer thou wilt be, + And save me sans delay, + Then I will be an eel, and slip + From 'twixt thy hands away. + --If thou wilt be an eel, and slip + From 'twixt my hands away, + Why, I will be the fisherman + Whom all the fish obey. + --If thou wilt be the fisherman + Whom all the fish obey, + Then I will be the tender grass + That yonder turns to hay. + --If thou wilt be the tender grass + That yonder turns to hay, + Why, then a mower I will be, + And mow thee in the may. + --If thou a mower then wilt be, + And mow me in the may, + I, as a little hare, will go + In yonder wood to stray. + --If thou a little hare wilt go + In yonder wood to stray, + Then will I come, a hunter bold, + And have thee as my prey. + --If thou wilt come a hunter bold + To have me as thy prey, + Then I will be the endive small + In yonder garden gay. + --If thou wilt be the endive small + In yonder garden gay, + Then I will be the falling dew, + And fall on thee alway. + --If thou wilt be the falling dew, + And fall on me alway, + Then I will be the white, white rose + On yonder thorny spray. + --If thou wilt be the white, white rose + On yonder thorny spray, + Then I will be the honey bee, + And kiss thee all the day. + --If thou wilt be the honey bee, + And kiss me all the day, + Then I will be in yonder heaven + The star of brightest ray. + --If thou wilt be in yonder heaven + The star of brighest ray, + Then I will be the dawn, and we + Shall meet at break of day. + --If thou wilt be the dawn, so we + May meet at break of day, + Then I will be a nun professed, + A nun of orders grey. + --If thou wilt be a nun professed, + A nun of orders grey, + Then I will be the prior, and thou + To me thy sins must say. + --If thou wilt be the prior, and I + To thee my sins must say, + Then will I sleep among the dead, + While the sisters weep and pray. + --If thou wilt sleep among the dead, + While the sisters weep and pray, + Then I will be the holy earth + That on thee they shall lay. + --If thou wilt be the holy earth + That on me they shall lay-- + Well--since some gallant I must have, + I will not say thee nay. + +A distinguished French scholar thought that he heard in this an echo +of Anacreon's ode [Greek: k' eus korên]. The inference suggested is +too hazardous for acceptance; yet that in some sort the song may date +from Greek Provence would seem to be the opinion even of cautious +critics. Thus we are led to look back to those associations which, +without giving a personal or political splendour such as that attached +to Magna Græcia, lend nevertheless to Provençal memories the exquisite +charm, the "_bouquet_" (if the word does not sound absurd) of all +things Greek. The legend of Greek beginnings in Provence will bear +being once more told. Four hundred and ninety years before Christ a +little fleet of Greek fortune-seekers left Phocæa, in Asia Minor, and +put into a small creek on the Provençal coast, the port of the future +Marseilles. As soon as they had disembarked, deeming it to be of +importance to them to stand well with the people of the land, they +sent to the king of the tribes inhabiting those shores an ambassador +bearing gifts and overtures of friendly intercourse. When the +ambassador reached Arles, Nann, the king, was giving a great feast +to his warriors, from among whom his daughter Gyptis was that day to +choose a husband. The young Greek entered the banqueting-hall and +sat down at the king's board. When the feasting was over, fair-haired +Gyptis, the royal maiden, rose from her seat and went straightway to +the strange guest; then, lifting in her hands the cup of espousal, +she offered it to his lips. He drank, and Provence became the bride of +Greece. + +The children of that marriage left behind them a graveyard to tell +their history. Desecrated and despoiled though it is, still the +great Arlesian cemetery bears unique witness as well to the civilised +prosperity of the Provençal Greeks as to their decline under the +influences which formed the modern Provence. Irreverence towards the +dead--a comparatively new human characteristic--can nowhere be more +fully observed than in the _Elysii Campi_ of Arles. The love of +destruction has been doing its worst there for some centuries. To any +king coming to the town the townsfolk would make a gift of a priceless +treasure stolen from their dead ancestors, while the peasant who +wanted a cattle trough, or the mason in need of a door lintel, went +unrebuked and carried off what thing suited him. Not even the halo of +Christian romance could save the Alyscamps. The legend is well known. +St Trefume, man or myth, summoned the bishops of Gaul and Provence to +the consecration of this burial-ground. When they were assembled and +the rite was to be performed, each one shrank from taking on himself +so high an office; then Christ appeared in their midst and made the +sign of the cross over the sleeping-place of the pagan dead. Out +of the countless stories of the meeting of the new faith and the +old--stories too often of a nascent or an expiring fanaticism, there +is not one which breathes a gentler spirit. It was long believed, that +the devil had little power with the dead that lay in Arles. Hence +the multitude of sepulchres which Dante saw _ove 'l Rodano stagna_. +Princes and archbishops and an innumerable host of minor folks left +instructions that they might be buried in the Alyscamps. A simple mode +of transport was adopted by the population of the higher Rhone valley. +The body, bound to a raft or bier, was committed to the current of the +river, with a sum of money called the "drue de mourtalage" attached +to it. These silent travellers always reached their destination in +safety, persons appointed to the task being in readiness to receive +them. The sea water washed the limits of the cemetery in the days of +the Greeks, who looked across the dark, calm surface of the immense +lagune and thought of dying as of embarkation upon a voyage--not the +last voyage of the body down the river of life, but the first voyage +of the soul over the sea of death--and they wished their dead [Greek: +euploi]. + +The Greek traces that exist in the living people of Provence are +few, but distinct. There is, in the first place, the type of beauty +particularly associated with the women of Arles. As a rule, the +Provençal woman is not beautiful; nor is she very willing to admit +that her Arlesian sisters are one whit more beautiful than she. The +secret of their fame is interpreted by her in the stereotyped remark, +"C'est la coiffe!" But the coif of Arles, picturesque though it is in +its stern simplicity, could not change an ugly face into a pretty one, +and the wearers of it are well entitled to the honour they claim as +their birthright. Scarcely due attention has been paid to the good +looks of the older and even of the aged women; I have not seen their +equals save among a face of quite another type, the Teutonic amazons +of the Val Mastalone. In countries where the sun is fire, if youth +does not always mean beauty, beauty means almost always youth. M. +Lenthéric thinks that he detects a second clear trace of the Greeks +in the horn wrestling practised all over the dried-up lagune which the +fork of the Rhone below Arles forms into an island. Astride of their +wild white steeds, the horsemen drive one of the superb black bulls of +the Camargue towards a group of young men on foot, who, catching him +by his horns, wrestle with him till he is forced to bend the knee and +bite the dust. The amusement is dangerous, but it is not brutal. The +horses escape unhurt, so does the bull; the risk is for the men alone, +and it is a risk voluntarily and eagerly run. So popular is the +sport that it is difficult to prevent children from joining in it. In +Thessaly it was called [Greek: keratisis], and the bull in the act of +submission is represented on a large number of Massaliote and other +coins. + +Marseilles, which has lost the art and the type of Greece, has kept +the Greek temperament. It is no more French than Naples is Italian: +both are Greek towns, though the characteristics that prove them such +have been somewhat differentiated by unlike external conditions. Still +they have points in common which are many and strong. Marsalia can +match in _émeutes_ the proverbial _quattordici rebellioni_ of "loyal" +Parthenope; and quickness of intelligence, love of display, mobility +of feeling, together with an astounding vitality, belong as much +to Marseillais as to Neapolitan. The people of Marseilles, the most +thriftless in France, have thriven three thousand years, and are +thriving now, in spite of the readiness of each small middle-class +family to lay out a half-year's savings on a breakfast at Roubion's; +in spite of the alacrity with which each working man sacrifices a +week's wages in order to "demonstrate" in favour of, or still better +against, no matter whom or what. Nowhere is there a more overweening +local pride. "Paris," say the Marseillais, "would be a fine town if it +had our _Cannebière_." Nowhere, as has been made lamentably plain, +are the hatreds of race and caste and politics more fierce or more +ruthless. Even with her own citizens Marseilles is stern; only after +protest does she grant a monument to Adolphe Thiers--himself just +a Greek Massaliote thrown into the French political arena. There is +reason to think that Greek was a spoken tongue at Marseilles at least +as late as the sixth century A.D. The Sanjanen, the fisherman of St +John's Quarter, has still a whole vocabulary of purely Greek terms +incidental to his calling. The Greek character of the speech of the +Marseillais sailors was noticed by the Abbé Papon, who attributed +to the same source the peculiar prosody and intonation of the +street cries of Marseilles. The Provençal historian remarks, with an +acuteness rare in the age in which he wrote (the early part of the +last century), "I draw my examples from the people, because it is with +them that we must seek the precious remains of ancient manners and +usages. Amongst the great, amongst people of the world, one sees only +the imprint of fashion, and fashion never stands still." + +The Sanjanens are credited with the authorship of this cynical little +song: + + Fisher, fishing in the sea, + Fish my mistress up for me. + + Fish her up before she drowns, + Thou shalt have four hundred crowns. + + Fish her for me dead and cold, + Thou shalt have my all in gold. + +The romantic ballads of Provence are of an importance which demands, +properly speaking, a separate study. Provence was, beyond a doubt, +one of the main sources of the ballad literature of France, Spain, and +Italy. That certain still existing Provençal ballads passed over into +Piedmont as early as the thirteenth century is the opinion of Count +Nigra, the Italian diplomatist, not the least of whose distinguished +services to his country has been the support he was one of the first +to give to the cause of popular research. In all these songs the +plot goes for everything, the poetry for little or nothing; I shall +therefore best economise my space by giving a rough outline of the +stories of two or three of them. "Fluranço" is a characteristic +specimen. Fluranço, "la flour d'aquest pays," was married when she was +a little thing, and her husband at once went away to the wars. Monday +they were wed, Tuesday he was gone. At the end of seven years the +knight comes back, knocks at the door, and asks for Fluranço. His +mother says that she is no longer here; they sent her to fetch water, +and the Moors, the Saracen Moors, carried her off. "Where did they +take her to?" "They took her a hundred leagues away." The knight makes +a ship of gold and silver; he sails and sails without seeing aught but +the washer-women washing fine linen. At last he asks of them: "Tell +me whose tower is that, and to whom that castle belongs." "It is the +castle of the Saracen Moor." "How can I get into it?" "Dress yourself +as a poor pilgrim, and ask alms in Christ's name." In this way he +gains admittance, and Fluranço (she it is) bids the servant set the +table for the "poor pilgrim." When the knight is seated at table, +Fluranço begins to laugh. "What are you laughing at, Madamo?" She +confesses that she knows who he is. They collect a quantity of fine +gold; then they go the stable, and she mounts the russet horse and he +mounts the grey. Just as they are crossing the bridge the Moor sees +them. "Seven years," he cries, "I have clothed thee in fine damask, +seven years I have given thee morocco shoes, seven years I have laid +thee in fine linen, seven years I have kept thee--for one of my sons!" +The carelessness or cruelty of a stepmother (the head-wife of Asiatic +tales) is a prolific central idea in Provençal romance. While the +husband was engaged in distant adventures--tournaments, feudal wars, +or crusading expeditions--the wife, who was often little more than a +child, remained at the mercy of the occasionally unamiable dowager who +ruled the masterless _château_. The case of cruelty is exemplified +in the story of Guilhem de Beauvoire, who has to leave his child-wife +five weeks after marriage. "I counsel you, mother," he says as he sets +out, "to put her to do no kind of work: neither to fetch water, nor +to spin, nor yet to knead bread. Send her to mass, and give her good +dinners, and let her go out walking with other ladies." At the end of +five weeks the mother put the young wife to keep swine. The swine girl +went up to the mountain top and sang and sang. Guilhem de Beauvoire, +who was beyond the sea, said to his page, "Does it not seem as though +my wife were singing?" He travels at all speed over mountain and sea +till he comes to his home, where no man knows him. On the way he meets +the swine girl, and from her he hears that she has to eat only that +which is rejected of the swine. At the house he is welcomed as an +honoured guest; supper is laid for him, and he asks that the swine +girl whom he has seen may come and sup with him. When she sits down +beside him the swine girl bursts into tears. "Why do you weep, swine +girl?" "For seven years I have not supped at table!" Then in the +bitterness of yet another outrage to which the vile woman subjects +her, she cries aloud, "Oh! Guilhem de Beauvoire, who art beyond +the sea, God help thee! Verily thy cruel mother has abandoned me!" +Secretly Guilhem tells her who he is, and in proof of it shows her the +ring she gave him. In the morning the mother calls the swine girl to +go after her pigs. "If you were not my mother," says Guilhem, "I would +have you hung; as you are my mother, I will wall you up between two +walls." + +The antiquity of the ballads of _Fluranco_ and _Guilhem de Beauvoire_ +is shown by the fact that they plainly belong to a time when such work +as fetching water or making bread was regarded as amongst the likely +employments of noble ladies--though, from excess of indulgence, +Guilhem did not wish his wife to be set even to these light tasks. A +ballad, probably of about the same date, treats the case of a man who, +through the weakness which is the cause of half the crimes, becomes +the agent of his mother's guilt. The tragedy is unfolded with almost +the sublime laconicism of the _Divina Commedia_. Françoiso was married +when she was so young that she did not know how to do the service, and +the cruel mother was always saying to her son that Françoiso must die. +One day, after the young wife had laid the table, and had set thereon +the wine and the bread, and the fresh water, her husband said to her, +"My Françoiso, is there not anyone, no friend, who shall protect thy +life?" "I have my mother and my father, and you, who are my husband, +very well will you protect my life." Then, as they sit at meat, he +takes a knife and kills her; and he lifts her in his arms and kisses +her, and lays her under the flower of the jessamine, and he goes to +his mother and says, "My mother, your greatest wish is fulfilled: I +have killed Françoiso." + +The genuine Provençal does not shrink from violence. Old inhabitants +still tell tales of the savage brigandage of the Estérel, of the +horrors of the _Terreur blanche_. Mild manners and social amenities +have never been characteristic of fair Provence. Even now the peasant +cannot disentangle his thoughts without a volley of oaths--harmless +indeed, for the most part (except those which are borrowed from +the _franciots_), but in sound terrific. Yet if it be true that the +character of a nation is asserted in its songs, it must be owned that +the songs of Provence speak favourably for the Provençal people. They +say that they are a people who have a steady and abiding sympathy +with honest men and virtuous women. They say further that rough and +ruthless though they may be when their blood is stirred, yet have they +a pitiful heart. The Provençal singer is slow to utterly condemn; +he grasps the saving inconsistencies of human nature; he makes the +murderer lay his victim "souto lou flour dou jaussemin:" under the +white jessamine flower, cherished beyond all flowers in Provence, +which has a strange passion for white things--white horses, white +dogs, white sheep, white doves, and the fair white hand of woman. Many +songs deal directly with almsgivings, the ritual of pity. To no part +of the Bible is there more frequent reference than to the parable of +the rich man and Lazarus; no neocatholic legend has been more gladly +accepted than the story in which some tattered beggar proves to +be Christ--a story, by the by, that holds in it the essence of the +Christian faith. If a Greek saw a beautiful unknown youth playing his +pipe beside some babbling stream, he believed him to be a god; the +Christian of the early ages recognised Christ in each mendicant +in loathsome rags, in each leper succoured at the risk of mortal +infection. + +The Provençal tongue is not a mixture (as is too often said) of +Italian and French; nor is physical Provence a less fair Italy or a +fairer France. A land wildly convulsed in its storms, mysteriously +breathless in its calms; a garden here, a desert there; a land of +translucent inlets and red porphyry hills; before all, a land of the +illimitable grey of olive and limestone--this is Provence. Anyone +finding himself of a sudden where the Provençal olives raise their +dwarf heads with a weary look of eternity to the rainless heaven, +would say that the dominant feature in the landscape was its exceeding +seriousness. Sometimes on the coast the prevailing note changes from +grey to blue; the blanched rocks catch the colour of the sea, and not +the sky only, but dry fine air close around seems of a blueness so +intense as to make the senses swim. Better suited to a Nature thus +made up of crude discords and subtle harmonies is the old Provençal +speech, howsoever corrupt, than the exquisite French of Parisian +_salons_. But the language goes and the songs go too. Damase Arbaud +relates how, when he went on a long journey to speak with a man +reported to have cognisance of much traditional matter, he met, +issuing from the house door, not the man, but his coffin. The fact +is typical; the old order of things passes away: _nouastei diou se'n +van_. + + [Footnote 1: I am told that the peasants of the country round + Moscow have a natural gift for imitating birds, and that they + intersperse the singing of their own sad songs with this sweet + carolling.] + + + + +THE WHITE PATERNOSTER. + + +In a paper published under the head of "Chaucer's Night Spell" in the +Folk-lore Record (part i. p. 145), Mr Thoms drew attention to four +lines spoken by the carpenter in Chaucer's _Miller's Tale_: + + Lord Jhesu Crist, and seynte Benedyht + Blesse this hous from every wikked wight, + Fro nyghtes verray, the White Paternostre + When wonestow now, seynte Petres soster. + +("Verray" is commonly supposed to mean night-mare, but Mr Thoms +referred it to "Werra," a Sclavonic deity.) + +Mention of the White Paternoster occurs again in White's _Way to the +True Church_ (1624): + + White Paternoster, Saint Peter's brother, + What hast i' th t'one hand? white booke leaves, + What hast i' th t'other hand? heaven gate keyes. + Open heaven gates, and streike (shut) hell gates: + And let every crysome child creepe to its own mother. + White Paternoster, Amen. + +A reading of the formula is preserved in the _Enchiridion Papæ +Leonis_, a book translated into French soon after its first appearance +in Latin at Rome in 1502: + + Au soir, m'allant coucher, je trouvis trois anges à mon lit + couchés, un aux pieds, deux au chevet, la bonne Vierge Marie + du milieu, qui me dit que je me couchis, que rien ne doutis. + Le bon Dieu est mon Père, la bonne Vierge est ma mère, les + trois vierges sont mes s[oe]urs. La chemise où Dieu fut né, + mon corps en est enveloppé; la croix Sainte Marguerite à ma + poitrine est écrite; madame d'en va sur les champs à Dieu + pleurant, rencontrit Monsieur Saint Jean. Monsieur Saint Jean, + d'où venez vous? Je viens d' _Ave Salus_. Vous n'avez pas vu + le bon Dieu; si est, il est dans l'arbre de la croix, les + pieds pendans, les mains clouans, un petit chapeau d'épine + blanche sur la tête. + + Qui la dira trois fois au soir, trois fois au matin, gagnera + le Paradis à la fin. + +Curious as are the above citations, they only go a little way towards +filling up the blanks in the history of this waif from the fabric +of early Christian popular lore. A search of some years has yielded +evidence that the White Paternoster is still a part of the living +traditional matter of at least five European countries. Most persons +are familiar with the English version which runs thus: + + Four corners to my bed, + Four angels round my head, + One to watch, one to pray, + And two to bear my soul away. + +A second English variant was set on record by Aubrey, and may also be +read in Ady's "Candle in the Dark" (1655): + + Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, + Bless the bed that I lye on; + And blessed guardian angel keep + Me safe from danger while I sleep. + +Halliwell suggests that the two last lines were imitated from the +following in Bishop Ken's Evening Hymn: + + Let my blest guardian, while I sleep, + His watchful station near me keep. +But if there was any imitation in the case, it was the bishop who +copied from the folk-rhymer, not the folk-rhymer from the bishop. + +The thought of the coming of death in sleep, is expressed in a prayer +that may be sometimes seen inscribed at the head and foot of the bed +in Norwegian homesteads: + +HEAD. + + Here is my bed and sleeping place; + God, let me sleep in peace + And blithe open my eyes + And go to work. + +FOOT. + + Go into thy bed, take thee a slumber, + Reflect now on the last hour; + Reflect now, + That thou mayest take thy last slumber. + +Analogous in spirit is a quatrain that has been known to me since +childhood, but which I do not remember to have seen in print: + + I lay me down to rest me, + And pray the Lord to bless me. + If I should sleep no more to wake + I pray the Lord my soul to take. + +The _Petite Patenôtre Blanche_ lingers in France in a variety of +shapes. One version was written down as late as 1872 from the mouth of +an old woman named Cathérine Bastien, an inhabitant of the department +of the Loire. It was afterwards communicated to _Mélusine_. + + Jésu m'endort, + Si je trépasse, mande mon corps, + Si je trépasse, mande mon âme, + Si je vis, mande mon esprit. + (Je) prends les anges pour mes amis, + Le bon Dieu pour mon père, + La Sainte Vierge pour ma mère, + Saint Louis de Gonzague, + Aux quatre coins de ma chambre, + Aux quatre coins be mon lit; + Preservez moi de l'ennemi, + Seigneur, à l'heure de ma mort. + +Quenot, in his _Statistique de la Charante_ (1818), gives the +subjoined: + + Dieu l'a faite, je la dit; + J'ai trouvé quatre anges couchés dans mon lit; + Deux à la tête, deux aux pieds, + Et le bon Dieu aux milieu. + De quoi puis-je avoir peur? + Le bon Dieu est mon père, + La Vierge ma mère, + Les saints mes frères, + Les saints mes s[oe]urs; + Le bon Dieu m'a dit: + Lève-toi, couche-toi, + Ne crains rien; le feu, l'orage, et la tempête + Ne peuvent rien contre toi. + Saint Jean, Saint Marc, Saint Luc, et St Matthieu, + Qui mettez les âmes en repos, + Mettez-y la mienne si Dieu veut. + +In Provence many a worthy country woman repeats each night this +_preiro doou soir_:-- + + Au liech de Diou + Me couche iou, + Sept anges n'en trouve iou, + Tres es peds, + Quatre au capet (caput--head); + La Buoeno Mero es au mitan + Uno roso blanco à la man. + +The white rose borne by the Good Mother is a pretty and characteristic +interpolation peculiar to flower-loving Provence. In the conclusion +of the prayer the _Boueno Mero_ tells whosoever recites it to have no +fear of dog or wolf, or wandering storm or running water, or shining +fire, or any evil folk. M. Damase Arbaud got together a number of +other devotional fragments that may be regarded as offshoots from the +parent stem. St Joseph, "Nourricier de Diou," is asked to preserve the +supplicant from sudden death, "et de l'infer et de ses flammos." +St Ann, "mero-grand de Jésus Christ," is prayed to teach the way to +Paradise. To St Denis a very practical petition is addressed: + + Grand Sant Danis de Franço, + Gardetz me moun bouen sens, ma boueno remembranço. + +Another verse points distinctly to a desire for protection against +witchcraft. The Provençals, by the bye, are of opinion that the +_Angelus_ was instituted to scare away any ill-conditioned spirits +that might be tempted out by the approach of night. + +In Germany the guardian saints are dispensed with, but the angels are +retained in force. I am indebted to Mr C. G. Leland for a translation +of the most popular German even-song: + + Fourteen angels in a band + Every night around me stand. + Two to my left hand, + Two to my right, + Who watch me ever + By day and night. + Two at my head, + Two at my feet, + To guard my slumber + Soft and sweet; + Two to wake me + At break of day, + When night and darkness + Pass away; + Two to cover me + Warm and nice, + And two to lead me + To Paradise. + +Passing on to Italy we find an embarrassing abundance of folk-prayers +framed after the self-same model. The repose of the Venetian is under +the charge of the Perfect Angel, the Angel of God, St Bartholomew, the +Blessed Mother, St Elizabeth, the Four Evangelists, and St John the +Baptist. Venetian children are taught to say: "I go to bed, I know not +if I shall arise. Thou, Lord, who knowest, keep good watch over me. +Before my soul separates from my body, give me help and good comfort. +In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, so be it. +Bless my heart and my soul!" The Venetians also have a "Paternoster +pichenin," and a "Paternoster grande," both of which are, in their +existing form, little else than nonsense. The native of the Marches +goes to his rest accompanied by our Lord, the Madonna, the Four +Evangelists, _l'Angelo perfetto_, four greater angels, and three +others--one at the foot, one at the head, one in the middle. The +Tuscan, like the German, has only angels around him: of these he has +seven--one at the head, one at the foot, two at the sides, one to +cover him, one to watch him, and one to bear him to Paradise. The +Sicilian says: "I lay me down in this bed, with Jesus on my breast. I +sleep and he watches. In this bed where I am laid, five saints I find: +two at the head, two at the feet, in the middle is St Michael." + +Perhaps the best expression of the belief in the divine guardians of +sleep is that given to it by an ancient Sardinian poet:-- + + Su letto meo est de battor cantones, + Et battor anghelos si bie ponen; + Duos in pes, et duos in cabitta, + Nostra Segnora a costazu m'ista. + E a me narat: Dormi e reposa, + No hapas paura de mala cosa, + No hapas paura de mala fine. + S' Anghelu Serafine, + S' Anghelu Biancu, + S' Ispiridu Santu, + Sa Vigine Maria, + Tote siant in cumpagnia mea. + Anghelu de Deu, + Custodio meo, + Custa nott' illuminame! + Guarda e difende a me + Ca eo mi incommando a tie. + + My bed has four corners and four angels standing by it. Two at + the foot and two at the head; our Lady is beside me. And to me + she says, "Sleep and repose; have no fear of evil things; have + no fear of an evil end." The angel Serafine, the angel + Blanche, the Holy Spirit, the Virgin Mary--all are here to + keep me company. Angel of God, thou my guardian, illuminate me + this night. Watch and defend me, for I commend myself to thee. + +A Spanish verse, so near to this that it would be needless to give it +a separate translation, was sent by a friend who at that time was in +the Royal College of Santa Ysabel at Madrid: + + Quatro pirondelitas + Tiene mi cama; + Quatro angelitos + Me la acompaña. + La madre de dios + Esta enmedio, + Dicendome: + Duerme y reposa, + Que no te sucedera + Ninguna mala cosa. + + Amen. + +In harmony with the leading idea of the White Paternoster, the +recumbent figures of the Archbishops in Canterbury Cathedral have +angels kneeling at each corner of their altar tombs. It is worth +remarking, too, how certain English lettered compositions have become +truly popular through the fact of their introducing the same idea. +A former Dean of Canterbury once asked an old woman, who lived alone +without chick or child, whether she said her prayers? "Oh! yes," was +the reply, "I say every night of my life, + + "Hush, my babe, lie still in slumber, + Holy angels guard thy bed!" + +The White Paternoster itself, in the form of "Matthew, Mark, Luke, +John," was, till lately, a not uncommon evening prayer in the +agricultural parts of Kent. At present the orthodox night and morning +prayers of the people in Catholic countries are the Lord's Prayer, +_Credo_ and _Ave Maria_, but to these, as has been seen, the White +Paternoster is often added, and at the date of the Reformation--when +the "Hail Mary" had scarcely come into general use--it is probable +that it was rarely omitted. Prayers that partake of the nature of +charms, have always been popular, and people have ever indulged in +odd, little roundabout devices to increase the efficacy of even the +most sacred words. Boccaccio, for instance, speaks of "the Paternoster +of San Giuliano," which seems to have been a Paternoster said for +the repose of the souls of the father and mother of St Julian, in +gratitude for which attention, the Saint was bound to give a good +night's lodging. It remains to be asked, why the White Paternoster is +called white? In the actual state of our knowledge, the reason is not +apparent; but possibly the term is to be taken simply in an +apologetic sense, as when applied to a stated form of dealing with +the supernatural. White charms had a recognised place in popular +extra-belief. It was sweet to be able to compel the invisible powers +to do what you would, and yet to feel secure from uncomfortable +consequences. Of course, in such a case, the thing willed must be of +an innocent nature. The Breton who begs vengeance of St Yves, knows +tolerably well that what he is doing is very black indeed, even though +the saint were ten times a saint. Topsy-turvy as may be his moral +perceptions, he would not call this procedure a "white charm." He +has, however, white charms of his own, one of which was described with +great spirit by Auguste Brizeux, the Breton poet who wove many of the +wild superstitions of his country into picturesque verse. Brizeux' +poems are not very well known either in France or out of it, but they +should be dear to students of folk-lore. The following is a version of +"La Poussière Sainte:" + + Sweeping an ancient chapel through the night + (A ruin now), built 'neath a rocky height, + The aged Coulm's old wife was muttering, + As if some secret strange abroad to fling. + + "I brave, thee tempest, and will do alone + What by my grand-dame in her youth was done, + When at her beck (of Leon's land, the pride), + The ocean, lion-headed, curbed its tide. + + "Sweep, sweep, my broom, until my charm uprears + A force more strong than sighs, more strong than tears: + Charm loved of heaven, which forces wind and wave, + Though fierce and mad, our children's lives to save. + + "My angel knows, a Christian true am I; + No Pagan, nor in league with sorcery. + Hence I dispense to the four winds of God, + To quell their rage, dust from the holy sod. + + "Sweep on my broom; by virtues such as these + Oft through the air I scattered swarms of bees. + And you, old Coulm, to-morrow shall be prest, + You, and my children three, against my breast." + + In Enn-Tell's port meanwhile, the pier along + Pressed forward, mute, dismayed, the anxious throng. + And as the billows howl, the lightnings flash, + And skies, lead-black, to earth seem like to dash; + Neighbours clasped hand to hand, and each one prayed, + Through superstition, speechless, while afraid. + Still as the port a sail did safely reach, + All shouting hurried forward to the beach: + "Father, is't you? Speak, father is it true?" + Others, "Hast seen my son?" "My brother, you?" + "Brave man, the truth, whate'er has happened, say, + Am I a widow?" Night in such dismay + Dragged 'neath a sky without a moon or star. + Thank God! Meanwhile all boats in safety are, + And every hearth is blazing--all save one, + The Columban's. But that was void and lone. + But you, Coulm's wife, still battle with the storm, + Fixed on the rocks, your task you still perform,-- + You cast, towards east, towards west, and towards the north, + And towards the south, your incantations forth. + + "Go, holy dust, 'gainst all the winds that fly. + No sorceress, but a Christian true am I. + By the lamp's light, when I the fire had lit, + In God's own house, my hands collected it. + + "You from the statues of the saints I swept, + And silken flags, still on the pillars kept, + And the dark tombs, of those whose sons neglect, + But you, with your white winding-sheet protect. + + "Go, holy dust! To stem the winds depart! + Born beneath Christian feet, thou glorious art: + When from the porch, I to the altar sped, + I seemed upon some heavenly path to tread. + + "On you the deacons and the priests have trod, + Pilgrims who live, forefathers 'neath the sod; + Wood flowers, sweet grains of incense, saintly bones; + By dawn you will restore my spouse and sons." + + She ceased her charm; and from the chapel then + She saw approach four bare-foot fishermen. + The aged dame in tears fell on her knees + And cried, "I knew they would escape the seas!" + Then cleansing sand and sea-weed o'er them spread, + With happy lips she kissed each cherished head. + + + + +THE DIFFUSION OF BALLADS. + +I.--LORD RONALD IN ITALY. + + +Several causes have combined to give the professional minstrel a more +tenacious hold on life in Italy than in France or Germany or England. +One of them is, that Italian culture has always been less dependent +on education--or what the English poor call "book-learning"--than the +culture of those countries. + +To this day you may count upon finding a blind ballad-singer in every +Italian city. The connection of blindness with popular songs is a +noteworthy thing. It is not, perhaps, a great exaggeration to say +that, had there been no blind folks in the world, there would have +been few ballads. Who knows, indeed, but that Homer would not have +earned his bread by bread-making instead of by enchanting the children +and wise men of all after-ages, had he not been "one who followed +a guide"? Every one remembers how it was the singing of a "blinde +crowder, with no rougher voice than rude style," that moved the heroic +heart of Sidney more than the blare of trumpets. Every one may not +know that in the East of Europe and in Armenia, "blinde crowders" +still wander from village to village, carrying, wheresoever they go, +the songs of a former day and the news of the latest hour; +acting, after a fashion, as professors of history and "special +correspondents," and keeping alive the sentiment of nationality +under circumstances in which, except for their agency, it must almost +without a doubt have expired. + +When the Austrians occupied Trebinje in the Herzegovina, they forbade +the playing of the "guzla," the little stringed instrument which +accompanies the ballads; but the ballads will not be forgotten. +Proscription does not kill a song. What kills it sometimes, if it have +a political sense, is the fulfilment of the hopes it expresses; then +it may die a natural death. I hunted all over Naples for some one who +could sing a song which every Neapolitan, man and boy, hummed through +the year when the Redshirts brought freedom: _Camicia rossa, camicia +ardente_. It seemed that there was not one who still knew it. Just as +I was on the point of giving up the search, a blind man was produced +out of a tavern at Posilippo; a poor creature in threadbare clothes, +holding a wretched violin. He sang the words with spirit and pathos; +he is old, however, and perhaps the knowledge of them will not survive +him. + +Our present business is not with songs of a national or local +interest, but with those which can hardly be said to belong to any +country in particular. And, first of all, we have to go back to a +certain _Camillo, detto il Bianchino cieco fiorentino_, who sang +ballads at Verona in the year 1629, and who had printed for the +greater diffusion of his fame a sort of rhymed advertisement +containing the first few lines of some twenty songs that belonged to +his repertory. Last but one of these samples stands the following: + + "Dov' andastú jersera, + Figlioul mio ricco, savio e gentil; + Dov' andastú jersera?" + +"When I come to look at it," adds Camillo, "this is too long; it ought +to have been the first to be sung"--alluding, of course, to the song, +not to the sample. + +Later in the same century, the ballad mentioned above had the honour +of being cited before a more polite audience than that which was +probably in the habit of listening to the blind Florentine. On +the 24th of September 1656, Canon Lorenzo Panciatichi reminded +his fellow-academicians of the Crusca of what he called "a fine +observation" that had been made regarding the song: + + "Dov' andastú a cena figlioul mio + Ricco, savio, e gentile?" + +The observation (continued the Canon) turned on the answer the son +makes to the mother when she asks him what his sweetheart gave him for +supper. "She gave me," says the son, "_un' anguilla arrosto cotta +nel pentolin dell' olio_." The idea of a roasted eel cooked in an oil +pipkin offended the academical sense of the fitness of things; it had +therefore been proposed to say instead that the eel was hashed: + + "Madonna Madre, + Il cuore stá male, + Per un anguilla in guazzetto." + +Had we nothing to guide us beyond these fragments, there could be no +question but that in this Italian ballad we might safely recognise +one of the most spirited pieces in the whole range of popular +literature--the song of Lord Ronald, otherwise Rowlande, or Randal, or +"Billy, my son:" + + "O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son? + O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?" + "I hae been to the wood; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain would lie down." + + "Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Ronald, my son? + Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?" + "I dined wi' my love; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain would lie down." + + "What gat ye to dinner, Lord Ronald, my son? + What gat ye to dinner, my handsome young man?" + "I gat eels boil'd in broo; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain would lie down." + + "And where are your bloodhounds, Lord Ronald, my son? + And where are your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?" + "O they swell'd and they died; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain would lie down." + + "O I fear ye are poison'd, Lord Ronald, my son! + O I fear ye are poison'd, my handsome young man!" + "O yes, I am poison'd! mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain would lie down." + +This version, which I quote from Mr Allingham's _Ballad Book_ (1864), +ends here; so does that given by Sir Walter Scott in the _Border +Minstrelsy_. There is, however, another version which goes on: + + "What will ye leave to your father, Lord Ronald, my son? + What will ye leave to your father, my handsome young man?" + "Baith my houses and land; mither, mak' my bed sune + For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." + + "What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Ronald, my son? + What will ye leave to your brither, my handsome young man?" + "My horse and my saddle; mither, mak' my bed sune, + For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." + + "What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Ronald, my son? + What will ye leave to your sister, my handsome young man?" + "Baith my gold box and rings; mither, mak' my bed sune, + For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun." + + "What will ye leave to your true love, Lord Ronald, my son? + What will ye leave to your true love, my handsome young man?" + "The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree, + And let her hang there for the poisoning o' me." + +Lord Ronald has already been met with, though somewhat disguised, both +in Germany and in Sweden, but his appearance two hundred and fifty +years ago at Verona has a peculiar interest attached to it. That +England shares most of her songs with the Northern nations is a fact +familiar to all; but, unless I am mistaken, this is almost the first +time of discovering a purely popular British ballad in an Italian +dress. + +It so happens that to the fragments quoted by Camillo and the Canon +can be added the complete story as sung at the present date in +Tuscany, Venetia, and Lombardy. Professor d'Ancona has taken pains to +collate the slightly different texts, because few Italian folk-songs +now extant can be traced even as far back as the seventeenth century. +The learned Professor, whose great antiquarian services are well +known, does not seem to be aware that the song has currency out of +Italy. The best version is one set down from word of mouth in the +district of Como, and of this I subjoin a literal rendering: + + "Where were you yester eve? + My son, beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + Where were you yester eve?" + "I with my love abode; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + I with my love abode; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "What supper gave she you? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + What supper gave she you?" + "I supped on roasted eel; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + I supped on roasted eel; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "And did you eat it all? + My son, beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + And did you eat it all?" + "Only the half I eat; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + Only the half I eat; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "Where went the other half? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + Where went the other half?" + "I gave it to the dog; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + I gave it to the dog; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die?" + + "What did you with the dog? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + What did you with the dog?" + "It died upon the way; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + It died upon the way; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "Poisoned it must have been! + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + Poisoned it must have been!" + "Quick for the doctor send; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + Quick for the doctor send; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die. + + "Wherefore the doctor call? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + Wherefore the doctor call?" + "That he may visit me; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + That he may visit me; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + * * * * * + + "Quick for the parson send; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + Quick for the parson send; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "Wherefore the parson call? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + Wherefore the parson call?" + "So that I may confess; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + So that I may confess; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + * * * * * + + "Send for the notary; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + Send for the notary; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "Why call the notary? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + Why call the notary?" + "To make my testament; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + To make my testament; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "What to your mother leave? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + What to your mother leave?" + "To her my palace goes; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + To her my palace goes; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "What to your brothers leave? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + What to your brothers leave?" + "To them the coach and team; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + To them the coach and team; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "What to your sisters leave? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + What to your sisters leave?" + "A dower to marry them; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + A dower to marry them; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "What to your servants leave? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + What to your servants leave?" + "The road to go to Mass; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + The road to go to Mass; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "What leave you to your tomb? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + What leave you to your tomb?" + "Masses seven score and ten; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + Masses seven score and ten; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + + "What leave you to your love? + My son beloved, blooming, and gentle bred, + What leave you to your love?" + "The tree to hang her on; + O lady mother, my heart is very sick: + The tree to hang her on; + Alas, alas, that I should have to die." + +At first sight it would seem that the supreme dramatic element of the +English song--the circumstance that the mother does not know, but only +suspects, with increasing conviction, the presence of foul play--is +weakened in the Lombard ballad by the refrain, "Alas, alas, that I +should have to die." But a little more reflection will show that this +is essentially of the nature of an _aside_. In many instances the +office of the burden in old ballads resembles that of the chorus in +a Greek play: it is designed to suggest to the audience a clue to the +events enacting which is not possessed by the _dramatis personæ_--at +least not by all of them. + +In the northern songs, Lord Ronald is a murdered child: a character +in which he likewise figures in the Scotch lay of "The Croodlin Doo." +This is the Swedish variant: + + "Where hast thou been so long, my little daughter?" + "I have been to B[oe]nne to see my brother; + Alas! how I suffer." + + "What gave they thee to eat, my little daughter?" + "Roast eel and pepper, my step-mother. + Alas! how I suffer." + + "What didst thou do with the bones, my little daughter?" + "I threw them to the dogs, my step-mother. + Alas! how I suffer." + + "What happened to the dogs, my little daughter?" + "Their bodies went to pieces, my step-mother. + Alas! how I suffer." + + "What dost thou wish for thy father, my little daughter?" + "Good grain in the grange, my step-mother. + Alas! how I suffer." + + "What dost thou wish for thy brother, my little daughter?" + "A big ship to sail in, my step-mother. + Alas! how I suffer." + + "What dost thou wish for thy sister, my little daughter?" + "Coffers and caskets of gold, my step-mother. + Alas! how I suffer." + + "What dost thou wish for thy step-mother, my little daughter?" + "The chains of hell, step-mother. + Alas! how I suffer." + + "What dost thou wish for thy nurse, my little daughter?" + "The same hell, my nurse. + Alas! how I suffer." + +A point connected with the diffusion of ballads is the extraordinarily +wide adoption of certain conventional forms. One of these is the form +of testamentary instructions by means of which the plot of a song is +worked up to its climax. It reappears in the "Cruel Brother"--which, I +suppose, is altogether to be regarded as of the Roland type: + + "O what would ye leave to your father, dear?" + _With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay._ + "The milk-white steed that brought me here," + _As the primrose spreads so sweetly._ + + "What would ye give to your mother, dear?" + _With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay._ + "My wedding shift which I do wear," + _As the primrose spreads so sweetly._ + + "But she must wash it very clean," + _With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay_, + "For my heart's blood sticks in every seam," + _As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. + + "What would ye give to your sister Anne?" + _With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay._ + "My gay gold ring and my feathered fan," + _As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. + + "What would ye give to your brother John?" + _With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay._ + "A rope and a gallows to hang him on!" + _As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. + + "What would ye give to your brother John's wife?" + _With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay._ + "Grief and sorrow to end her life!" + _As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. + + "What would ye give to your own true lover?" + _With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay._ + "My dying kiss, and my love for ever!" + _As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. + +The Portuguese ballad of "Helena," which has not much in common with +"Lord Roland"--except that it is a story of treachery--is brought into +relation with it by its bequests. Helena is a blameless wife whom a +cruel mother-in-law first encourages to pay a visit to her parents, +and then represents to her husband as having run away from him in +his absence. No sooner has he returned from his journey than he rides +irate after his wife. When he arrives he is met by the news that a son +is born to him, but unappeased he orders the young mother to rise +from her bed and follow him. She obeys, saying that in a well-ordered +marriage it is the husband who commands; only, before she goes, she +kisses her son and bids her mother tell him of these kisses when he +grows up. Then her husband takes her to a high mountain, where the +agony of death comes upon her. The husband asks: "To whom leavest thou +thy jewels?" She answers: "To my sister; if thou wilt permit it." +"To whom leavest thou thy cross and the stones of thy necklace?" "The +cross I leave to my mother; surely she will pray for me; she will +not care to have the stones, thou canst keep them--if to another thou +givest them, better than I, let her adorn herself with them." "Thy +substance, to whom leavest thou?" "To thee, my husband; God grant it +may profit thee." "To whom leavest thou thy son, that he may be well +brought up?" "To thy mother, and may it please God that he should make +himself loved of her." "Not to that dog," cries the husband, his eyes +at last opened, "she might well kill him. Leave him rather to thy +mother, who will bring him up well; she will know how to wash him with +her tears, and she will take the coif from her head to swaddle him." + +A strange, wild Roumanian song, translated by Mr C. F. Keary +(_Nineteenth Century_, No. lxviii.), closes with a list of "gifts" of +the same character: + + "But mother, oh mother, say how + Shall I speak, and what name call him now?" + "My beloved, my step-son, + My heart's love, my cherished one." + "And her, O my mother, what word + Shall I give her, what name?" + "My step-daughter, abhorred, + The whole world's shame." + "Then, my mother, what shall I take him? + What gift shall I make him?" + "A handkerchief fine, little daughter, + Bread of white wheat for thy loved one to eat, + And a glass of wine, my daughter." + "And what shall I take _her_, little mother, + + What gift shall I make _her_?" + "A kerchief of thorns, little daughter; + A loaf of black bread for her whom he wed, + And a cup of poison, my daughter." + +Before parting with "Lord Ronald" it should be noticed that the song +clearly travelled in song-shape, not simply as a popular tradition; +and that its different adaptators have been still more faithful to the +shape than to the substance. It is not so easy to decide whether the +victim was originally a child or a lover, whether the north or the +south has preserved the more correct version. Some crime of the middle +ages may have been the foundation of the ballad; on the other hand +it is conceivable that it formed part of the enormous accumulation of +literary odds and ends brought to Europe from the east, by pilgrims +and crusaders. Stories that, as we know them, seem distinctly +mediæval, such as Boccaccio's "Falcon," have been traced to India. +If a collection were made of the ballads now sung by no more widely +extended class than the three thousand ballad singers inscribed in the +last census of the North-Western Provinces and Oude, what a priceless +boon would not be conferred upon the student of comparative folk-lore! +We cannot arrive at a certainty even in regard to the minor question +of whether Lord Ronald made his appearance first in England or in +Italy. The English and Italian songs bear a closer affinity to +each other than is possessed by either towards the Swedish variant. +Supposing the one to be directly derived from the other--a supposition +which in this case does not seem improbable--the Italian was most +likely the original. There was a steady migration into England of +Italian literature, literate and probably also illiterate, from the +thirteenth to the sixteenth century. The English ballad-singers may +have been as much on the look-out for a new, orally communicated song +from foreign parts, as Chaucer was for a poem of Petrarch's or a tale +of Boccaccio's. + + +II.--THE THEFT OF A SHROUD. + +The ballad with which we have now to deal has had probably as wide a +currency as that of "Lord Ronald." The student of folk-lore recognises +at once, in its evident fitness for local adaptation, its simple yet +terrifying motive, and the logical march of its events, the elements +that give a popular song a free pass among the peoples. + +M. Allègre took down from word of mouth and communicated to the late +Damase Arbaud a Provençal version, which runs as follows: + + His scarlet cape the Prior donned, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + His scarlet cape the Prior donned, + And all the souls in Paradise + With joy and triumph fill the skies. + + His sable cape the Prior donned, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + His sable cape the Prior donned, + And all the spirits of the dead + Fast tears within the graveyard shed. + + Now, Ringer, to the belfry speed, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Now, Ringer, to the belfry speed, + Ring loud, to-night thy ringing tolls + An office for the dead men's souls. + + Ring loud the bell of good St John: + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Ring loud the bell of good St John: + Pray all, for the poor dead; aye pray, + Kind folks, for spirits passed away. + + Soon as the midnight hour strikes, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Soon as the midnight hour strikes, + The pale moon sheds around her light, + And all the graveyard waxeth white. + + What seest thou, Ringer, in the close? + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + What seest thou, Ringer, in the close? + "I see the dead men wake and sit + Each one by his deserted pit." + + Full thousands seven and hundreds five, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Full thousands seven and hundreds five, + Each on his grave's edge, yawning wide, + His dead man's wrappings lays aside. + + Then leave they their white winding-sheets, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Then leave they their white winding-sheets, + And walk, accomplishing their doom, + In sad procession from the tomb. + + Full one thousand and hundreds five, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Full one thousand and hundreds five, + And each one falls upon his knees + Soon as the holy cross he sees. + + Full one thousand and hundreds five, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Full one thousand and hundreds five + Arrest their footsteps, weeping sore + When they have reached their children's door. + + Full one thousand and hundreds five, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Full one thousand and hundreds five + Turn them aside and, listening, stay + Whene'er they hear some kind soul pray. + + Full one thousand and hundreds five, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Full one thousand and hundreds five, + Who stand apart and groan bereft, + Seeing for them no friends are left. + + But soon as ever the white cock stirs, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + But soon as ever the white cock stirs, + They take again their cerements white, + And in their hands a torch alight. + + But soon as ever the red cock crows, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + But soon as ever the red cock crows, + All sing the Holy Passion song, + And in procession march along. + + But soon as the gilded cock doth shine, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + But soon as the gilded cock doth shine, + Their hands and their two arms they cross, + And each descends into his foss. + + 'Tis now the dead men's second night, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Tis now the dead men's second night: + Peter, go up to ring; nor dread + If thou shouldst chance to see the dead. + + "The dead, the dead, they fright me not," + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + "The dead, the dead, they fright me not, + --Yet prayers are due for the dead, I ween, + And due respect should they be seen." + + When next the midnight hour strikes, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + When next the midnight hour strikes, + The graves gape wide and ghastly show + The dead who issue from below. + + Three diverse ways they pass along, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Three diverse ways they pass along, + Nought seen but wan white skeletons + Weeping, nought heard but sighs and moans. + + Down from the belfry Peter came, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Down from the belfry Peter came, + While still the bell of good St John + Gave forth its sound: barin, baron. + + He carried off a dead man's shroud, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + He carried off a dead man's shroud; + At once it seemed no longer night, + The holy close was all alight. + + The holy Cross that midmost stands, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + The holy Cross that midmost stands + Grew red as though with blood 'twas dyed, + And all the altars loudly sighed. + + Now, when the dead regained the close, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Now, when the dead regained the close + --The Holy Passion sung again-- + They passed along in solemn train. + + Then he who found his cerements gone, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Then he who found his cerements gone, + From out the graveyard gazed and signed + His winding-sheet should be resigned. + + But Peter every entrance closed, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + But Peter every entrance closed + With locks and bolts, approach defies, + Then looks at him--but keeps the prize! + + He with his arm, and with his hand, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + He with his arm, and with his hand, + Made signs in vain, two times or three, + And then the belfry entered he. + + A noise is mounting up the stair, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + A noise is mounting up the stair, + The bolts are shattered, and the door + Is burst and dashed upon the floor. + + The Ringer trembled with dismay, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + The Ringer trembled with dismay, + And still the bell of good St John + For ever swung: barin, baron. + + At the first stroke of Angelus, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + At the first stroke of Angelus + The skeleton broke all his bones, + Falling to earth upon the stones. + + Peter upon his bed was laid, + Ding dong, dong ding dong! + Peter upon his bed was laid, + Confessed his sin, repenting sore, + Lingered three days, then lived no more. + +It will be seen that, in this ballad, which is locally called "Lou +Jour des Mouerts," the officiating priest assumes red vestments in +the morning, and changes them in the course of the day for black. +The vestments appropriate to the evening of All Saints' Day are still +black (it being the Vigil of All Souls'), but in the morning the +colour worn is white or gold. An explanation, however, is at hand. The +feast of All Saints had its beginning in the dedication of the Roman +Pantheon by Boniface IV., in the year 607, to _S. Maria ad Martyres_, +and red ornaments were naturally chosen for a day set apart especially +to the commemoration of martyrdom. These were only discarded when the +feast came to have a more general character, and there is evidence +of their retention here and there in French churches till a date as +advanced as the fifteenth century. Thus, we gain incidentally some +notion of the age of the song. + +Not long after giving a first reading to the Provençal ballad of the +Shroud-theft, I became convinced of its substantial identity with a +poem whose author holds quite another rank to that of the nameless +folk-poet. Goethe's "Todten Tanz" tends less to edification than "Lou +jour des Mouerts;" nor has it, I venture to think, an equal power. +We miss the pathetic picture of the companies of sad ghosts; these +kneeling before the wayside crosses; these lingering by their +children's thresholds; these listening to the prayers of the pious +on their behalf; these others weeping, _en vesent que n'ant plus +d'amics_. But the divergence of treatment cannot hide the fact that +the two ballads are made out of one tale. + + THE DANCE OF DEATH. + + The watcher looks down in the dead of the night + On graves in trim order gleaming; + The moon steeps the world all around in her light-- + 'Tis clear as if noon were beaming. + One grave gaped apart, then another began; + Here forth steps a woman, and there steps a man, + White winding-sheets trailing behind them. + + On sport they determine, nor pause they for long, + All feel for the measure advancing; + The rich and the poor, the old and the young; + But winding-sheets hinder the dancing. + Since sense of decorum no longer impedes, + They hasten to shake themselves free of their weeds, + And tombstones are quickly beshrouded. + + Then legs kick about and are lifted in air, + Strange gesture and antic repeating; + The bones crack and rattle, and crash here and there, + As if to keep time they were beating. + The sight fills the watcher with mirth 'stead of fear, + And the sly one, the Tempter, speaks low in his ear: + "Now go and a winding-sheet plunder!" + + The hint he soon followed, the deed it was done, + Then behind the church-door he sought shelter; + The moon in her splendour unceasingly shone, + And still dance the dead helter-skelter. + At last, one by one, they all cease from the play, + And, wrapt in the winding-sheets, hasten away, + Beneath the turf silently sinking. + + One only still staggers and stumbles along, + The grave edges groping and feeling; + 'Tis no brother ghost who has done him the wrong; + Now his scent shows the place of concealing. + The church-door he shakes, but his strength is represt; + 'Tis well for the watcher the portals are blest + By crosses resplendent protected. + + His shirt he must have, upon this he is bent, + No time has he now for reflection; + Each sculpture of Gothic some holding has lent, + He scales and he climbs each projection. + Dread vengeance o'ertakes him, 'tis up with the spy! + From arch unto arch draws the skeleton nigh, + Like lengthy-legged horrible spider. + + The watcher turns pale, and he trembles full sore, + The shroud to return he beseeches; + But a claw (it is done, he is living no more), + A claw to the shroud barely reaches. + The moonlight grows faint; it strikes one by the clock; + A thunderclap burst with a terrible shock; + To earth falls the skeleton shattered. + +It needed but small penetration to guess that Goethe had neither seen +nor heard of the Provençal song. It seemed, therefore, certain that +a version of the Shroud-theft must exist in Germany, or near it--an +inference I found to be correct on consulting that excellent work, +Goethe's _Gedichte erläutert von Heinrich Viehoff_ (Stuttgart, 1870). +So far as the title and the incident of the dancing are concerned, +Goethe apparently had recourse to a popular story given in Appel's +_Book of Spectres_, where it is related how, when the guards of the +tower looked out at midnight, they saw Master Willibert rise from his +grave in the moonshine, seat himself on a high tombstone, and begin to +perform on his pocket pipe. Then several other tombs opened, and the +dead came forth and danced cheerily over the mounds of the graves. The +white shrouds fluttered round their dried-up limbs, and their bones +clattered and shook till the clock struck one, when each returned +into his narrow house, and the piper put his pipe under his arm +and followed their example. The part of the ballad which has to do +directly with the Shroud-theft is based upon oral traditions collected +by the poet during his sojourn at Teplitz, in Bohemia, in the summer +of 1813. Viehoff has ascertained that there are also traces of the +legend in Silesia, Moravia, and Tyrol. In these countries the story +would seem to be oftenest told in prose; but Viehoff prints a rhymed +rendering of the variant localised in Tyrol, where the events are +supposed to have occurred at the village of Burgeis: + + The twelve night strokes have ceased to sound, + The watchman of Burgeis looks around, + The country all in moonlight sleeps; + Standing the belfry tower beneath + The tombstones, with their wreaths of death, + The wan moon's ghastly pallor steeps. + + "Does the young mother in child-birth dead + Rise in her shroud from her lonely bed, + For the sake of the child she has left behind? + To mock them (they say) makes the dead ones grieve, + Let's see if I cannot her work relieve, + Or she no end to her toil may find." + + So spake he, when something, with movement slow, + Stirs in the deep-dug grave below, + And in its trailing shroud comes out; + And the little garments that infants have + It hangs and stretches on gate and grave, + On rail and trellis, the yard about. + + The rest of the buried in sleep repose, + That nothing of waking or trouble knows, + For the woman the sleep of the grave is killed; + Her leaden sleep, each midnight hour, + Flees, and her limbs regain their power, + And she hastes as to tend her new-born child. + + All with rash spite the watchman views, + And with cruel laughter the form pursues, + As he leans from the belfrey's narrow height, + And in sinful scorn on the tower rails + Linen and sheets and bands he trails, + Mocking her acts in the moon's wan light. + + Lo, with swift steps, foreboding doom, + From the churchyard's edge o'er grave and tomb + The ghost to the tower wends its ways; + And climbs and glides, ne'er fearing fall, + Up by the ledges, the lofty wall, + Fixing the sinner with fearful gaze. + + The watcher grows pale, and with hasty hand, + Tears from the tower the shrouds and bands; + Vainly! That threatening grin draws nigh! + With a trembling hand he tolls the hour, + And the skeleton down from the belfry-tower, + Shattered and crumbling, falls from high. + +This story overlaps the great cycle of popular belief which treats +of the help given by a dead mother to her bereaved child. They say +in Germany, when the sheets are ruffled in the bed of a motherless +infant, that the mother has lain beside it and suckled it. Kindred +superstitions stretch through the world. The sin of the Burgeis +watchman is that of heartless malice, but it stops short of actual +robbery, which is perhaps the reason why he escapes with his life, +having the presence of mind to toll forth the first hour of day, +when-- + + Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, + The extravagant and erring spirit hies + To his confine. + +The prose legends which bear upon one or another point in the +Shroud-theft, are both numerous and important. Joseph Macé, a +cabin-boy of Saint Cast, in Upper Brittany, related the following to +the able collector of Breton folk-lore, M. Paul Sébillot. There was a +young man who went to see a young girl; his parents begged him not to +go again to her, but he replied: "Mind your own business and leave me +to mind mine." One evening he invited two or three of his comrades to +accompany him, and as they passed by a stile they saw a woman standing +there, dressed all in white. "I'll take off her coif," said the youth. +"No," said the others, "let her alone." But he went straight up to +her and carried off her coif--there only remained the little skullcap +underneath, but he did not see her face. He went with the others to +his sweetheart, and showed her the coif. "Ah!" said he, "as I came +here I met a woman all in white, and I carried off her coif." "Give +me the coif," replied his sweetheart; "I will put it away in my +wardrobe." Next evening he started again to see the girl, and on +reaching the stile he saw a woman in white like the one of the day +before, but this one had no head. "Dear me," he said to himself, "it +is the same as yesterday; still I did not think I had pulled off her +head." When he went in to his sweetheart, she said, "I wore to-day +the coif you gave me; you can't think how nice I look in it!" "Give it +back to me, I beg of you," said the young man. She gave it back, and +when he got home he told his mother the whole story. "Ah, my poor +lad," she said, "you have kept sorry company. I told you some ill +would befall you." He went to bed, but in the night his mother heard +sighs coming from the bed of her son. She woke her good man and said, +"Listen; one would say someone was moaning." She went to her son's +bed and found him bathed in sweat. "What is the matter with you?" +she asked. "Ah, my mother, I had a weight of more than three hundred +pounds on my body; it stifled me, I could bear it no longer." Next day +the youth went to confession, and he told all to the curate. "My boy," +said the priest, "the person you saw was a woman who came from the +grave to do penance; it was your dead sister." "What can I do?" asked +the young man. "You must go and take her back her coif, and set it +on the neck on the side to which it leans." "Ah! sir, I should never +dare, I should die of fright!" Still he went that evening to the +stile, where he saw the woman who was dressed in white and had no +head; he set the coif just on the side the neck leant to; all at once +a head showed itself inside it, and a voice said, "Ah! my brother, you +hindered me from doing penance; to-morrow you will come and help me +to finish it." The young man went back to bed, but next day he did not +get up when the others did, and when they went to his bed he was dead. + +At Saint Suliac a young man saw three young girls kneeling in the +cemetery. He took the cap off one of them, saying that he would not +give it back till she came to embrace him. Next day, instead of the +cap he found a death's head. At midnight he carried it back, holding +in his arms a new-born infant. The death's head became once more a +cap, the woman disappeared, and the young man, thanks to the child, +suffered no harm. + +In a third Breton legend a child commits the theft, but without any +consciousness of wrong-doing. A little girl picked up a small bone in +a graveyard and took it away to amuse herself with it. In the evening, +when she returned home, she heard a voice saying: + + Give me back my bone! + Give me back my bone! + +"What's that?" asked the mother. + +"Perhaps it is because of a bone I picked up in the cemetery." + +"Well, it must be given back." + +The little girl opened the door and threw the bone into the court, but +the voice went on saying: + + Give me back my bone! + Give me back my bone! + +"Maybe it is the bone of a dead man; take the candle, go into the +court and give it back to him." + +It is most unfortunate to possess a human bone, even by accident. +It establishes unholy relations between the possessor and the spirit +world which render him defenceless against spells and enchantments. A +late chaplain to the forces in Mauritius told me that the witches, +or rather wizards, who have it all their own way in that island, +contrived, after a course of preparatory persecution, to +surreptitiously introduce into his house the little finger of a child. +He could not think what to do with it: at last he consulted a friend, +a Catholic priest, who advised him to burn it, which was done. We all +know "the finger of birth-strangled babe" in the witches' cauldron in +_Macbeth_; but it is somewhat surprising to find a similar "charm for +powerful trouble" in current use in a British colony. + +A Corsican legend, reported by M. Frédéric Ortoli, should have a place +here. On the Day of the Dead a certain man had to go to Sartena to +sell chestnuts. Overnight he filled his panniers, so as to be ready to +start with the first gleam of daylight. The only thing left for him to +do was to go and get his horse, which was out at pasture not far from +the village. So he went to bed, but hardly had he lain down when a +fearful storm broke over the house. Cries and curses echoed all round: +"Cursed be thou! cursed be thy wife! cursed be thy children!" The +wretched man grew cold with fear; he got quite close to his wife, who +asked: "Did you put the water outside the window?" "Sangu di Cristu!" +cried the man, "I forgot!" He rose at once to put vessels filled with +water on the balcony. The dead--whose vigil it was--were in fact come, +and finding no water either to drink or to wash and purify their sins +in, they had made a frightful noise and hurled maledictions against +him who had forgotten their wants. The poor man went to bed again, but +the storm continued, though the cursing and blaspheming had ceased. + +Towards three in the morning the man wished to get up, "Stay," said +his wife, "do not go." + +"No, go I must." + +"The weather is so bad, the wind so high; some mischief will come to +you." + +"Never mind; keep me no more." + +And so saying the husband went out to find his horse. He had barely +reached the crossway when by the path from Giufari, he saw, marching +towards him, the _squadra d'Arrozza_--the Dead Battalion. Each dead +man held a taper, and chanted the _Miserere_. + +The poor peasant was as if petrified; his blood stood still in his +veins, and he could not utter a word. Meanwhile the troop surrounded +him, and he who was at its head offered him the taper he was carrying. +"Take hold!" he said, and the poor wretch took it. + +Then the most dreadful groans and cries were heard. "Woe! woe! woe! Be +accursed, be accursed, be accursed." + +The villager soon came to himself, but oh! horrid sight! in his hand +was the arm of a little child. It was that, and not a taper, that the +dead had given him. He tried to get rid of it, but every effort proved +fruitless. In despair, he went to the priest, and told him all about +it. "Men should never take what spirits offer them," said the priest, +"it is always a snare they set for us; but now that the mischief is +done, let us see how best we can repair it." + +"What must I do?" + +"For three successive nights the Dead Battalion will come under your +windows at the same hour as when you met it: some will cry, some +will sob, others will curse you, and ask persistently for the little +child's arm; the bells of all the churches will set to tolling the +funeral knell, but have no fear. At first you must not throw them the +arm--only on the third day may you get rid of it, and this is how. +Get ready a lot of hot ashes; then when the dead come and begin to cry +and groan, throw them a part. That will make them furious; they will +wish to attack your house--you will let them in, but when all the +spectres are inside, suddenly throw at them what is left of the hot +ashes with the child's arm along with it. The dead will take it away, +and you will be saved." + +Everything happened just as the priest said; for three nights cries, +groans, and imprecations surrounded the man's house, while the bells +tolled the death-knell. It was only by throwing hot ashes on the +ghosts that he got rid of the child's arm. Not long after, he died. +"Woe be to him who forgets to give drink to the dead." + +The Dead Battalion, or Confraternity of Ghosts, walk abroad dressed as +penitents, with hoods over their heads. The solitary night traveller +sees them from time to time, defiling down the mountain gorges; they +invariably try to make him accept some object, not to be recognised +in the dark--but beware, lest you accept! If some important person +is about to die, they come out to receive his soul into their dread +brotherhood. + +Ghost stories are common in Corsica. What wilder tale could be desired +than that of the girl, betrayed by her lover to wed a richer bride, +who returns thrice, and lies down between man and wife--twice she +vanishes at cock-crow, the third time she clasps her betrayer in her +chilly arms, saying, "Thou art mine, O beloved! mine thou wilt be +forever, we part no more." While she speaks he breathes his last +breath. + +The dead, when assembled in numbers, and when not employed in +rehearsing the business or calling of their former lives, are usually +engaged either in dancing or in going through some sort of religious +exercise. On this point there is a conformity of evidence. A spectre's +mass is a very common superstition. On All Soul's Eve an old woman +went to pray in the now ruined church of St Martin, at Bonn. Priests +were performing the service, and there was a large congregation, but +by and by the old woman became convinced that she was the only living +mortal in the church. She wished to get away, but she could not; just +as Mass was ending, however, her deceased husband whispered to her +that now was the time to fly for her life. She ran to the door, but +she stopped for one moment at the spot in the aisle where two of her +children were buried, just to say, "Peace be unto them." The door +swung open and closed after her: a bit of her cloak was shut in, so +that she had to leave it behind. Soon after she sickened and died; the +neighbours said it must be because a piece of her clothes had remained +in the possession of the dead. + +The dance of the dead sometimes takes the form not of an amusement but +of a doom. One of the most curious instances of this is embodied in a +Rhineland legend, which has the advantage of giving names, dates, and +full particulars. In the 14th century, Freiherr von Metternich placed +his daughter Ida in a convent on the island of Oberwörth, in order +to separate her from her lover, one Gerbert, to whom she was secretly +betrothed. A year later the maiden lay sick in the nunnery, attended +by an aged lay sister. "Alas!" she said, "I die unwed though a +betrothed wife." "Heaven forefend!" cried her companion, "then you +would be doomed to dance the death-dance." The old sister went on to +explain that betrothed maidens who die without having either married +or taken religious vows, are condemned to dance on a grassless spot +in the middle of the island, there being but one chance of escape--the +coming of a lover, no matter whether the original betrothed or +another, with whom the whole company dances round and round till +he dies; then the youngest of the ghosts makes him her own, and may +henceforth rest in her grave. The old nun's gossip does not delay +(possibly it hastens) the hapless Ida's departure, and Gerbert, +who hears of her illness on the shores of the Boden See, arrives at +Coblentz only to have tidings of her death. He rows over to Oberwörth: +it is midnight in midwinter. Under the moonlight dance the unwed +brides, veiled and in flowing robes; Gerbert thinks he sees Ida +amongst them. He joins in the dance; fast and furious it becomes, to +the sound of a wild, unearthly music. At last the clock strikes, and +the ghosts vanish--only one, as it goes, seems to stoop and kiss the +youth, who sinks to the ground. There the gardener finds him on +the morrow, and in spite of all the care bestowed upon him by the +sisterhood he dies before sundown. + +In China they are more practical. In the natural course of things the +spirit of an engaged girl would certainly haunt her lover, but there +is a way to prevent it, and that way he takes. He must go to the house +where she died, step over the coffin containing her body, and carry +home a pair of her shoes. Then he is safe. + +A story may be added which comes from a Dutch source. The gravedigger +happened to have a fever on All Saints' Day. "Is it not unlucky?" he +said to a friend who came to see him, "I am ill, and must go to-night +in the cold and snow to dig a grave." "Oh, I'll do that for you," said +the gossip. "That's a little service." So it was agreed. The gossip +took a spade and a pick-axe, and cheered himself with a glass at the +alehouse; then, by half-past eleven, the work was done. As he +was going away from the churchyard he saw a procession of white +friars--they went round the close, each with a taper in his hand. When +they passed the gossip, they threw down the tapers, and the last flung +him a big ball of wax with two wicks. The gossip laughed quite loudly: +all this wax would sell for a pretty sum! He picked up the tapers and +hid them under his bed. Next day was All Souls'. The gossip went to +bed betimes, but he could not get to sleep, and as twelve struck he +heard three knocks. He jumped up and opened the door--there stood all +the white monks, only they had no tapers! The gossip fell back on his +bed from fright, and the monks marched into the room and stood all +round him. Then their white robes dropped off, and, only to think of +it! they were all skeletons! But no skeleton was complete; one lacked +an arm, another a leg, another a backbone, and one had no head. +Somehow the cloth in which the gossip had wrapped the wax came out +from under the bed and fell open; instead of tapers it was full of +bones. The skeletons now called out for their missing members: "Give +me my rib," "Give me my backbone," and so on. The gossip gave back all +the pieces, and put the skull on the right shoulders--it was what he +had mistaken for a ball of wax. The moment the owner of the head had +got it back he snatched a violin which was hanging against the wall, +and told the gossip to begin to play forthwith, he himself extending +his arms in the right position to conduct the music. All the skeletons +danced, making a fearful clatter, and the gossip dared not leave off +fiddling till the morning came and the monks put on their clothes and +went away. The gossip and his wife did not say one word of what had +happened till their last hour, when they thought it wisest to tell +their confessor. + +Mr Benjamin Thorpe saw a link between the above legend, of which he +gave a translation in his "Northern Mythology," and the Netherlandish +proverb, "Let no one take a bone from the churchyard: the dead +will torment him till he return it." Its general analogy with our +Shroud-theft does not admit of doubt, though the proceedings of the +expropriator of wax lights are more easily accounted for than +are those of the Shroud-thief. Peter of Provence either stole the +winding-sheet out of sheer mischief, or he took it to enable him +to see sights not lawfully visible to mortal eyes. In any case a +well-worn shroud could scarcely enrich the thief, while the wax used +for ecclesiastical candles was, and is still, a distinctly marketable +commodity. A stranger who goes into a church at Florence in the +dusk of the evening, when a funeral ceremony is in the course of +performance, is surprised to see men and boys dodging the footsteps of +the brethren of the _Misericordia_, and stooping at every turn to the +pavement; if he asks what is the object of their peculiar antics, he +will hear that it is to collect + + The droppings of the wax to sell again. + +The industry is time-honoured in Italy. At Naples in the last century, +the wax-men flourished exceedingly by reason of a usage described by +Henry Swinburne. Candidates for holy orders who had not money enough +to pay the fees, were in the habit of letting themselves out to attend +funerals, so that they might be able to lay by the sum needful. But as +they were often indisposed to fulfil the duties thus undertaken, they +dressed up the city vagrants in their clothes and sent them to pray +and sing instead of them. These latter made their account out of the +transaction by having a friend near, who held a paper bag, into which +they made the tapers waste plenteously. Other devices for improving +the trade were common at that date in the Neapolitan kingdom. Once, +when an archbishop was to be buried, and four hundred genuine friars +were in attendance, suddenly a mad bull was let loose amongst them, +whereupon they dropped their wax lights, and the thieves, who had laid +the plot, picked them up. At another great funeral, each assistant +was respectfully asked for his taper by an individual dressed like +a sacristan; the tapers were then extinguished and quietly carried +away--only afterwards it was discovered that the supposed sacristans +belonged to a gang of thieves. The Shroud-theft is a product of the +peculiar fascination exercised by the human skeleton upon the mediæval +fancy. The part played by the skeleton in the early art and early +fiction of the Christian æra is one of large importance; the horrible, +the grotesque, the pathetic, the humorous--all are grouped round the +bare remnants of humanity. The skeleton, figuring as Death, still +looks at you from the _façades_ of the village churches in the north +of Italy and the Trentino--sometimes alone, sometimes with other stray +members of the _Danse Macabre_; carrying generally an inscription to +this purport: + + Giunge la morte plena de egualeza, + Sole ve voglio e non vostra richeza. + Digna mi son de portar corona, + E che signoresi ogni persona. + +The _Danse Macabre_ itself is a subject which is well nigh +exhaustless. The secret of its immense popularity can be read in the +lines just quoted: it proclaimed equality. "Nous mourrons tous," said +the French preacher--then, catching the eye of the king, he politely +substituted "_presque_ tous." Now there is no "presque" in the Dance +of Death. Whether painted by Holbein's brush, or by that of any humble +artist of the Italian valleys, the moral is the same: grand lady and +milkmaid, monarch and herdsman, all have to go. Who shall fathom the +grim comfort there was in this vivid, this highly intelligible showing +forth of the indisputable fact? It was a foretaste of the declaration +of the rights of man. Professor Pellegrini, who has added an +instructive monograph to the literature of the _Danse Macabre_, +mentions that on the way to the cemetery of Galliate a wall bears the +guiding inscription: "Via al vero comunismo!" + +The old custom of way-side ossuaries contributed no doubt towards +keeping strongly before the people the symbol and image of the great +King. I have often reflected on the effect, certainly if unconsciously +felt, of the constant and unveiled presence of the dead. I remember +once passing one of the still standing chapels through the gratings +of which may be seen neatly ranged rows of human bones, as I was +descending late one night a mountain in Lombardy. The moon fell +through the bars upon the village ancestors; one old man went by along +the narrow way, and said gravely as he went the two words: "È +tardi!" It was a scene which always comes back to me when I study the +literature of the skeleton. + + + + +SONGS FOR THE RITE OF MAY. + + +One of the first of living painters has pointed to the old English +custom of carrying about flowers on May Day as a sign that, in the +Middle Ages, artistic sensibility and a pleasure in natural beauty +were not dead among the common people of England. Nothing can be truer +than this way of judging the observance of the Rite of May. Whatever +might be the foolishness that it led to here and there, its origin lay +always in pure satisfaction at the returned glory of the earth; in the +wish to establish a link that could be seen and felt--if only that +of holding a green bough or of wearing a daffodil crown--between +the children of men and the new and beautiful growth of nature. The +sentiment is the same everywhere, but the manner of its expression +varies. In warmer lands it finds a vent long before the coming of +May. March, in fact, rather than May, seems to have been chosen as the +typical spring month in ancient Greece and Rome; and when we see the +almond-trees blooming down towards Ponte Molle in the earliest week in +February, even March strikes us as a little late for the beginning +of the spring festival. A few icicles next morning on the Trevi, act, +however, as a corrective to our ideas. In a famous passage Ovid tells +the reason why the Romans kept holiday on the first of March: "The +ice being broken up, winter at last yields, and the snow melts away, +conquered by the sun's gentle warmth; the leaves come back to the +trees that were stripped by the cold, the sap-filled bud swells with +the tender twig, and the fertile grass, that long lay unseen, finds +hidden passages and uplifts itself in the air. Now is the field +fruitful, now is the time of the birth of cattle, now the bird +prepares its house and home in the bough." (_Fastorum_, lib. iii.) + +March day is still kept in Greece by bands of youngsters who go +from house to house in the hopes of getting little gifts of fruit or +cheese. They take with them a wooden swallow which they spin round to +the song: + + The swallow speeds her flight + O'er the sea-foam white, + And then a-singing she doth slake her wing. + "March, March, my delight, + And February wan and wet, + For all thy snow and rain thou yet + Hast a perfume of the spring." + +Or perhaps to the following variant, given by Mr Lewis Sergeant in +_New Greece_: + + She is here, she is here, + The swallow that brings us the beautiful year; + Open wide the door, + We are children again, we are old no more. + +These little swallow-songs are worth the attention of the Folk-Lore +student, since they are of a greater antiquity than can be proved on +written evidence in the case, so far as I know, of any other folk-song +still current. More than two thousand years ago they existed in the +form quoted from Theognis by Athenæus as "an excellent song sung by +the children of Rhodes." + + The swallow comes! She comes, she brings + Glad days and hours upon her wings. + See on her back + Her plumes are black, + But all below + As white as snow. + Then from your well-stored house with haste, + Bring sweet cakes of dainty taste, + Bring a flagon full of wine, + Wheaten meal bring, white and fine; + And a platter load with cheese, + Eggs and porridge add--for these + Will the swallow not decline. + Now shall we go, or gifts receive! + Give, or ne'er your house we leave, + Till we the door or lintel break, + Or your little wife we take; + She so light, small toil will make. + But whate'er ye bring us forth, + Let the gift be one of worth. + Ope, ope your door, to greet the swallow then, + For we are only boys, not bearded men. + +In Ægina the children's prattle runs: "March is come, sing, ye hills +and ye flowers and little birds! Say, say, little swallow, where hast +thou passed? where hast thou halted?" And in Corfu: "Little swallow, +my joyous one, joyous my swallow; thou that comest from the desert, +what good things bringest thou? Health, joy, and red eggs." Yet +another version of the swallow song deals in scant compliments to the +month of March, which was welcomed so gladly at its first coming: + + From the Black Sea the swallow comes, + She o'er the waves has sped, + And she has built herself a nest + And resting there she said: + "Thou February cold and wet, + And snowy March and drear, + Soft April heralds its approach, + And soon it will be here. + The little birds begin to sing, + Trees don their green array, + Hens in the yard begin to cluck, + And store of eggs to lay. + The herds their winter shelter leave + For mountain-side and top; + The goats begin to sport and skip, + And early buds to crop; + Beasts, birds, and men all give themselves + To joy and merry heart, + And ice and snow and northern winds + Are melted and depart. + Foul February, snowy March, + Fair April will not tarry. + Hence, February! March, begone! + Away the winter carry!" + +When they leave off singing, the children cry "Pritz! Pritz!" +imitating the sound of the rapid flight of a bird. Longfellow +translated a curious Stork-carol sung in spring-time by the Hungarian +boys on the islands of the Danube: + + Stork! Stork! Poor Stork! + Why is thy foot so bloody? + A Turkish boy hath torn it, + Hungarian boy will heal it, + With fiddle, fife, and drum. + +Before the sun was up on May-day morning, the people of Edinburgh +assembled at Arthur's Seat to "meet the dew." May-dew was thought to +possess all kinds of virtues. English girls went into the fields at +dawn to wash their faces in it, in order to procure a good complexion. +Pepys speaks of his wife going to Woolwich for a little change of air, +and to gather the May-dew. In Croatia, the women get from the woods +flowers and grasses which they throw into water taken from under a +mill-wheel, and next morning they bathe in the water, imagining that +thus the new strength of Nature enters into them. There is said to +also exist a singular rain-custom in Croatia. When a drought threatens +to injure the crops, a young girl, generally a gipsy, dresses herself +entirely in flowers and grasses, in which primitive raiment she is +conducted through the village by her companions, who sing to the skies +for mercy. In Greece, too, there are many songs and ceremonies in +connection with a desire for the rain, which never comes during the +whole pitiless summer. + +If there be a part of the world where spring plays the laggard, it is +certainly the upper valley of the Inn. Nevertheless the children +of the Engadine trudge forth bravely over the snow, shaking their +cow-bells and singing lustily: + + Chalanda Mars, chaland'Avrigl + Lasché las vachias our d'nuilg. + +Were the cows to leave their stables as is here enjoined, they would +not find a blade of grass to eat--but that does not matter. The +children have probably sung that song ever since their forefathers +came up to the mountains; came up in all likelihood from sunny +Tuscany. The Engadine lads, after doing justice to their March-day +fare, set out for the boundaries of their commune, where they are met +by another band of boys, with whom they contend in various trials +of strength, which sometimes end in hand-to-hand fights. This may be +analogous to the old English usage of beating the younger generation +once a year at the village boundaries in order to impress on them a +lasting idea of local geography. By the Lake of Poschiavo it is the +custom to "call after the grass"--"chiamar l'erba"--on March-day. + +In the end, as has been seen, March gets an ill-word from the Greek +folk-singer, who is not more constant in his praise of April. It is +the old fatality which makes the Better the Enemy of the Good. + + May is coming, May is coming, comes the month so blithe and gay; + April truly has its flowers, but all roses bloom in May; + April, thou accurst one, vanish! Sweet May-month I long to see; + May fills all the world with flowers, May will give my love to me. + +May is pre-eminently the bridal month in Greece; a strange +contradiction to the prejudice against May marriages that prevails +in most parts of Europe. "Marry in May, rue for aye." The Romans have +been held responsible for this superstition. They kept their festival +of the dead during May, and while it lasted other forms of worship +were suspended. To contract marriage would have been to defy the +fates. Traces of a spring feast of souls survive in France, where, on +Palm Sunday, _Pâques fleuries_ as it is called, it is customary to set +the first fresh flowers of the year upon the graves. Nor is it by any +means uninteresting to note that in one great empire far outside of +the Roman world the _fête des morts_ is assigned not to the quiet +close of the year but to the delightful spring. The Chinese festival +of Clear Weather which falls in April is the chosen time for +worshipping at the family tombs. + +The marriage of Mary Queen of Scots and James Bothwell was celebrated +on the 16th of May; an unknown hand wrote upon the gate of Holyrood +Palace Ovid's warning: + + Si te proverbia tangunt, + Mense malas Maio nubere vulgus ait. + +Of English songs treating of that "observance" or "rite" of May to +which Chaucer and Shakespeare bear witness, there are unfortunately +few. The old nursery rhyme: + + Here we go a-piping, + First in spring and then in May, + +tells the usual story of house-to-house visiting and expected largess. +In Devonshire, children used to take round a richly-dressed doll; such +a doll is still borne in triumph by the children of Great Missenden, +Bucks, where a doggerel is sung, of which these are the concluding +verses: + + A branch of May I have you brought, + And at your door I stand; + 'Tis but a spray that's well put out + By the works of the mighty Lord's hand. + + If you have got no strong beer, + We'll be content with small; + And take the goodwill of your house, + And give good thanks for all. + + God bless the master of this house, + The mistress also; + Likewise the little children + That round the table go. + + My song is done, I must be gone, + No longer can I stay; + God bless you all, both great and small, + And send you a joyful May. + +The poets of Great Missenden not being prolific, the two middle +stanzas are used at Christmas as well as on May-day. + +May-poles were prohibited by the Long Parliament of 1644, being +denounced as a "heathenish vanity generally abused to superstition and +wickedness." A long while before, the Roman Floralia, the feast when +people carried green boughs and wore fresh garlands, had been put +down for somewhat the same reasons. With regard to May-poles I am not +inclined to think too harshly of them. They died hard: an old Essex +man told me on his death-bed of how when he was a lad the young folks +danced regularly round the May-pole on May-day, and in his opinion it +was a good time. It was a time, he went on to say, when the country +was a different thing; twice a day the postillion's horn sounded down +the village street, the Woolpack Inn was often full even to the attics +in its pretty gabled roof, all sorts of persons of quality fell out +of the clouds, or to speak exactly, emerged from the London coach. +The life of the place seemed to be gone, said my friend, and yet "the +place" is in the very highest state of modern prosperity. + +The parade of sweeps in bowers of greenery lingered on rather longer +in England than May-poles. It is stated to have originated in this +way. Edward Wortley Montagu (born about 1714), who later was destined +to win celebrity by still stranger freaks, escaped when a boy from +Westminster School and borrowed the clothes of a chimney sweep, +in whose trade he became an adept. A long search resulted in his +discovery and restoration to his parents on May 1; in recollection +of which event Mrs Elizabeth Montagu is said to have instituted +the May-day feast given by her for many years to the London +chimney-sweepers. + +In the country west of Glasgow it is still remembered how once the +houses were adorned with flowers and branches on the first of May, +and in some parts of Ireland they still plant a May-tree or May-bush +before the door of the farmhouse, throwing it at sundown into a +bonfire. The lighting of fires was not an uncommon feature of May-day +observance, but it is a practice which seems to me to have strayed +into that connection from its proper place in the great festival of +the summer solstice on St John's Eve. Among people of English speech, +May-day customs are little more than a cheerful memory. Herrick wrote: + + Wash, dress, be brief in praying, + Few beads are best when once we go a-maying. + +People neglect their "beads" or the equivalents now from other +motives. + +May night is the German Walpurgis-nacht. The witches ride up to the +Brocken on magpies' tails, not a magpie can be seen for the next +twenty-four hours--they are all gone and they have not had time to +return. The witches dance on the Brocken till they have danced away +the winter's snow. May-brides and May-kings are still to be heard of +in Germany, and children run about on May-day with buttercups or +with a twist of bread, a _Bretzel_, decked with ribbons, or holding +imprisoned may-flies, which they let loose whilst they sing: + + Maïkäferchen fliege, + Dein Vater ist in kriege, + Deine Mutter ist in Pommerland, + Pommerland ist abgebrannt, + Maïkäferchen fliege. + +May chafer must fly away home, his father is at the wars, his mother +is in Pomerania, Pomerania is all burnt. May chafer in short is the +brother of our ladybird. Dr Karl Blind is of opinion that "Pommerland" +is a later interpolation for "Holler-land"--the land of Freya--Holda, +the Teutonic Aphrodite; and he and other German students of mythology +see in the conflagration an allusion to the final end and doom of the +kingdom of the gods. It is pointed out that the ladybird was Freya's +messenger, whose business it was to call the unborn from their +tranquil sojourn amongst celestial flowers, into the storms of human +existence. There is an airy May chafer song in Alsace--Teutonic in +tradition, though French in tongue: + + Avril, tu t'en vas, + Car Mai vient là-bas, + Pour balayer ta figure + De pluie, aussi de froidure. + Hanneton, vole! + Hanneton, vole! + + Au firmament bleu + Ton nid est en feu, + Les Turcs avec leur épée + Viennent tuer ta couvée. + Hanneton, vole! + Hanneton, vole! + +Dr Blind recollects taking part, as a boy, in an extremely curious +children's drama, which is still played in some places in the open +air. It is an allegory of the expulsion of winter, who is killed and +burnt, and of the arrival of summer, who comes decked with flowers and +garlands. The children repeat: + + Now have we chased death away, + And we bring the summer weather; + Summer dear and eke the May, + And the flowers all together: + Bringing summer we are come, + Summer tide and sunshine home. + +With this may be compared an account given by Olaus Magnus, a Swedish +writer of the fifteenth century, of how May Day was celebrated in +his time. "A number of youths on horseback were drawn up in two lines +facing each other, the one party representing 'Winter' and the other +'Summer.' The leader of the former was clad in wild beasts' skins, +and he and his men were armed with snow-balls and pieces of ice. +The commander of the latter--'Maj Greve,' or Count May--was, on the +contrary, decorated with leaves and flowers, and his followers had +for weapons branches of the birch or linden tree, which, having been +previously steeped in water, were then in leaf. At a given signal, a +sham fight ensued between the opposing forces. If the season was cold +and backward, 'Winter' and his party were impetuous in their attack, +and in the beginning the advantage was supposed to rest with them; +but if the weather was genial, and the spring had fairly set in, 'Maj +Greve' and his men carried all before them. Under any circumstances, +however, the umpire always declared the victory to rest with 'Summer.' +The winter party then strewed ashes on the ground, and a joyous +banquet terminated the game." Mr L. Lloyd, author of "Peasant Life +in Sweden" (1870), records some lines sung by Swedish children when +collecting provisions for the _Maj gille_ or May feast, which recall +the "Swallow-song": + + "Best loves from Mr and Mrs Magpie, + From all their eggs and all their fry, + O give them alms, if ever so small, + Else hens and chickens and eggs and all, + A prey to 'Piet' will surely fall." + +The Swedes raise their _Maj st[)a]ng_ or May-pole, not on May, but +on St John's Eve, a change due, I suspect, to the exigencies of the +climate. + +German _Mailieder_ are one very much like the other; they are full of +the simple gladness of children who have been shut up in houses, and +who now can run about in the sunny air. I came across the following in +Switzerland: + + "Alles neu macht der Mai, + Macht die Seele frisch und frei. + Lasst dans Haus! + Kommt hinaus! + Windet einen Strauss! + + "Rings erglänzet Sonnenschein, + Dustend pranget Flur und Hain. + Vögel-sang, + Lust'ger Klang + Tönt den Wald entlang." + +In Lorraine girls dressed in white go from village to village +stringing off couplets, in which the inhabitants are turned into +somewhat unmerciful ridicule. The girls of this place enlighten the +people of that as to their small failings, and so _vice versâ_. All +the winter the village poets harvest the jokes made by one community +at the expense of another, in order to shape them into a consecutive +whole for recital on May Day. The girls are rewarded for their part in +the business by small coin, cakes and fruit. The May-songs of Lorraine +are termed "Trimazos," from the fact that they are always sung to the +refrain, + + "O Trimazot, ç'at lo Maye; + O mi-Maye! + Ç'at lo joli mois de Maye, + Ç'at lo Trimazot." + +The derivation of _Trimazo_ is uncertain; someone suggested that _Tri_ +stands for three, and _mazo_ for maidens; but I think _mazo_ is more +likely to be connected with the Italian _mazzo_, "nosegay." The word +is known outside Lorraine: at Islettes children say: + + "Trimazot! en nous allant + Nous pormenés eddans les champs + Nous y ons trouvé les blés si grands + Les Aubépin' en fleurissant." + +They beg for money to buy a taper for the Virgin's altar; for it +must not be forgotten that the month of May is the month of Mary. +The villagers add a little flour to their pious offering, so that the +children may make cakes. Elsewhere in Champagne young girls collect +the taper money; they cunningly appeal to the tenderness of the young +mother by bringing to her mind the hour "when she takes her pretty +child up in the morning and lays him to sleep at night." There was +a day on which the girls of the neighbourhood of Remiremont used to +way-lay every youth they met on the road to the church of Dommartin +and insist on sticking a sprig of rosemary or laurel in his cap, +saying, "We have found a fine gentleman, God give him joy and health; +take the May, the pretty May!" The fine gentleman was requested to +give "what he liked" for the dear Virgin's sake. In the department of +the Jura there are May-brides, and in Bresse they have a May-queen who +is attended by a youth, selected for the purpose, and by a little +boy who carries a green bough ornamented with ribands. She heads the +village girls and boys, who walk as in a marriage procession, and who +receive eggs, wine, or money. A song still sung in Burgundy recalls +the præ-revolutionary æra and the respect inspired by the seigneurial +woods:-- + + "Le voilà venu le joli mois, + Laissez bourgeonner le bois; + Le voilà venu le joli mois, + Le joli bois bourgeonne. + Il faut laisser bourgeonner le bois, + Le bois du gentilhomme." + +The young peasants of Poitou betake themselves to the door of each +homestead before the dawn of the May morning and summon the mistress +of the house to waken her daughters:-- + + "For we are come before hath come the day + To sing the coming of the month of May." + +But they do not ask the damsels to stand there listening to +compliments; "Go to the hen-roost," they say, "and get eighteen, or +still better, twenty new laid eggs." If the eggs cannot be had, they +can bring money, only let them make haste, as day-break is near and +the road is long. By way of acknowledgment the spokesman adds a sort +of "And your petitioners will ever pray;" they will pray for the +purse which held the money and for the hen that laid the eggs. If St +Nicholas only hears them that hen will eat the fox, instead of the fox +eating the hen. The gift is seemly. Now the dwellers in the homestead +may go back to their beds and bar doors and windows; "as for us, we go +through all the night singing at the arrival of sweet spring." + +The antiquary in search of May-songs will turn to the Motets and +Pastorals of that six-hundred-year-old Comic Opera "Li gieus de +Robin et de Marion." Its origin was not illiterate, but in Adam de la +Halle's time and country poets who had some letters and poets who +had none did not stand so widely apart. The May month, the summer +sweetness, the lilies of the valley, the green meadows--these +constituted pretty well the whole idea which the French rustic had +formed to himself of what poetry was. It cannot be denied that he +came to use these things occasionally as mere commonplaces, a tendency +which increased as time wore on. But he has his better moods, and +some of his ditties are not wanting in elegance. Here is an old song +preserved in Burgundy: + + Voici venu le mois des fleurs + Des chansons et des senteurs; + Le mois qui tout enchante + Le mois de douce attente. + Le buisson reprend ses couleurs + Au bois l'oiseau chante. + + Il est venu sans mes amours + One j'attends, hélas, toujours; + Tandis que l'oiseau chante + Et que le mai l' on plante + Seule en ces bois que je parcours + Seule je me lamente. + +In the France of the sixteenth century, the planting of the May took a +literary turn. At Lyons, for instance, the printers were in the habit +of setting up what was called "Le Mai des Imprimeurs" before the door +of some distinguished person. The members of the illustrious Lombard +house of Trivulzi, who between them held the government of Lyons +for more than twenty-five years, were on several occasions chosen as +recipients of the May-day compliment. "Le Grand Trivulce," marshal of +France, was a great patron of literature, and the encouragement of the +liberal arts grew to be a tradition in the family. In 1529 Theodore +de Trivulce had a May planted in his honour bearing a poetical address +from the pen of Clement Marot, and Pompone de Trivulce received a like +distinction in 1535, when Etienne Dolet wrote for the occasion an +ode in the purest Latin, which may be read in Mr R. C. Christie's +biography of its author. + +Giulio Cesare Croce, the famous ballad-singer of Bologna (born 1550), +wrote a "Canzonetta vaga in lode del bel mese di maggio et delle +regine o contesse che si fanno quel giorno in Bologna," and in 1622, a +small book was published at Bologna, entitled: "Ragionamenti piacevoli +intorno alle contesse di maggio; piantar il maggio; nozze che si +fanno in maggio." The author, Vincenzo Giacchiroli, observes: "These +countesses, according to what I have read, the Florentines call Dukes +of May--perhaps because there they have real dukes." The first of May, +he continues, the young girls select one from among them and set her +on a high seat or throne in some public street, adorned and surrounded +with greenery, and with such flowers as the season affords. To +this maiden, in semblance like the goddess Flora, they compel every +passer-by to give something, either by catching him by his clothes, or +by holding a cord across the street to intercept him, singing at the +same time, "Alla contessa, alla contessa!" They who pass, therefore, +throw into a plate or receptacle prepared for the purpose, money, or +flowers, or what not, for the new countess. In some places it was the +custom to kiss the countess; "neither," adds the author, "is this +to be condemned, since so were wont to do the ancients as a sign of +honour." + +Regarding a similar usage at Mantua, Merlinus Coccaius (Folengo) +wrote: + + "Accidit una dies qua Mantua tota bagordat + Prima dies mensis Maii quo quisque piantat + Per stradas ramos frondosos nomine mazzos." &c. + +Exactly the same practice lingers in Spain. In the town of Almeria, +improvised temples are raised at the street corners and gateways, +where, on an altar covered with damask or other rich stuff, a girl +decked with flowers is seated, whilst around her in a circle stand +other girls, also crowned with flowers, who hold hands, and intone, +like a Greek chorus-- + + "Un cuartito para la Maya, + Que no tiene manto ni saya." + +"A penny for the May who has neither mantle nor petticoat." + +Lorenzo de' Medici says in one of his ballads: + + Se tu vuo' appiccare un maio. + A qualcuna che tu ami.... + +In his day "Singing the May" was almost a trade; the country folk +flocked into Florence with their May trees and rustic instruments and +took toll of the citizens. The custom continues along the Ligurian +coast. At Spezia I saw the boys come round on May-day piping and +singing, and led by one, taller than the rest, who carried an Italian +flag covered with garlands. The name of the master of the house before +which they halt is introduced into a song that begins: + + Siam venuti a cantar maggio, + Al Signore ---- + Come ogn' anno usar si suole, + Nella stagion di primavera. + +Since Chaucer, who loved so dearly the "May Kalendes" and the "See of +the day," no one has celebrated them with a more ingenuous charm than +the country lads of the island of Sardinia, who sing "May, May, be +thou welcome, with all Sun and Love; with the Flower and with the +Soul, and with the Marguerite." A Tuscan and a Pisan _Rispetto_ may be +taken as representative of Italian May-song: + + 'Twas in the Calends of the month of May, + I went into the garden for a flower, + A wild bird there I saw upon a spray, + Singing of love with skilled melodious power. + O little bird, who dost from Florence speed + Teach me whence loving doth at first proceed? + Love has its birth in music and in songs + Its end, alas! to tears and grief belongs. + + Era di maggio, se ben mi ricordo + Quando c'incominciammo a ben volere + Eran fiorite le rose dell'orto, + E le ciliege diventavan nere; + Ciliege nere e pere moscatelle, + Siete il trionfo delle donne belle + Ciliege nere e pere moscatate. + Siete il trionfo delle innamorate + Ciliege nere e pere moscatine. + Siete il trionfo delle piu belline. + +The child's or lover's play of words in this last baffles all attempt +at translation: it is not sense but sweetness, not poetry but music. +It is as much without rule or study or conventionality as the song of +birds when in Italian phrase, _fanno primavera_. + +In the Province of Brescia the Thursday of Mid-Lent is kept by what +is called "Burning the old women." A doll made of straw or rags, +representing the oldest woman, is hung outside the window; or, if in +a street, suspended from a cord passed from one side to the other. +Everyone makes the tour of town or village to see _le Vecchie_ who at +sundown are consigned to the flames, generally with a distaff placed +in their hands. It is a picturesque sight at Salò, when the bonfires +blaze at different heights up the hills, casting long reflections +across the clear lake-water. The sacrifice is consummated--but what +sacrifice? I was at first disposed to simply consider the "old woman" +as a type of winter, but I am informed that by those who have studied +relics of the same usage in other lands, she is held to be a relative +of the "harvest-man" or growth-genius, who must be either appeased or +destroyed. Yet a third interpretation occurs to me, which I offer for +what it is worth. Might not the _Vecchia_ be the husk which must be +cast off before the miracle of new birth is accomplished? "The seed +that thou sowest shall not quicken unless it die." Hardly any idea has +furnished so much occasion for symbolism as this, that life is death, +and death is life. + +Professor d'Ancona believes, that to the custom of keeping May by +singing from house to house and collecting largess of eggs or fruit or +cheese, may be traced the dramatic representations, which, under the +name of _Maggi_, can still be witnessed in certain districts of the +Tuscan Hills and of the plain of Pisa. These May-plays are performed +any Sunday in Spring, just after Mass; the men, women, and children, +hastening from the church-door to the roughly-built theatre which has +the sky for roof, the grey olives and purple hills for background. +The verses of the play (it is always in verse) are sung to a sort of +monotonous but elastic chant, in nearly every case unaccompanied +by instruments. No one can do more than guess when that chant was +composed; it may have been five hundred years ago and it may have been +much more. Grief or joy, love and hate, all are expressed upon the +same notes. It is possible that some such recitative was used in the +Greek drama. A play that was not sung would not seem a play to +the Tuscan contadino. The characters are acted by men or boys, the +peasants not liking their wives and daughters to perform in public. +A considerable number of _Maggi_ exist in print or in MS. carefully +copied for the convenience of the actors. The subjects range from +King David to Count Ugolino, from the siege of Troy to the French +Revolution. They seem for most part modern compositions, cast in a +form which was probably invented before the age of Dante. + + + + +THE IDEA OF FATE IN SOUTHERN TRADITIONS. + + +In the early world of Greece and Italy, the beliefs relating to +Fate had a vital and penetrative force which belonged only to them. +"Nothing," says Sophocles, "is so terrible to man as Fate." It was the +shadow cast down the broad sunlight of the roofless Hellenic life. All +Greece, its gods and men, bowed at that word which Victor Hugo saw, +or imagined that he saw, graven on a pillar of Nôtre Dame: [Greek: +Anankê]. Necessity alone of the supernatural powers was not made by +man in his own image. It had no sacred grove, for in the whole world +there was no place where to escape from it, no peculiar sect of +votaries, for all were bound equally to obey; it could not be bought +off with riches nor withstood by valour; no man worshipped it, many +groaned under its dispensation; but by all it was vaguely felt to be +the instrument of a pure justice. If they did not, with Herder, call +Fate's law "Eternal Truth," yet their idea of necessity carried these +men nearer than did any other of their speculative guesses to the idea +of a morally-governed universe. + +The belief in one Fate had its train of accessorial beliefs. The +Parcae and the Erinnyes figured as dark angels of Destiny. Then, in +response to the double needs of superstition and materialism, the +impersonal Fate itself took the form of the Greek Tyche, and of that +Fortuna, who, in Rome alone, had no less than eight temples. There +were some indeed who saw in Fortune nothing else than the old _dira +necessitas_; but to the popular mind, she was nearer to chance than to +necessity; she dealt out the favourable accident which goes further +to secure success than do the subtlest combinations of men. The Romans +did not only demand of a military leader that he should have talent, +foresight, energy; they asked, was he _felix_--happy, fortunate? Since +human life was seen to be, on the whole, but a sorry business, +and since it was also seen that the prosperous were not always the +meritorious, the inference followed that Fortune was capricious, +changeable, and, if not immoral, at least unmoral. With this character +she came down to the Middle Ages, having contrived to outlive the +whole Roman pantheon. + +So Dante found her, and inquired of his guide who and what she might +really be? + + Maestro, dissi lui, or mi di' anche: + Questa Fortuna di che tu mi tocche, + Che è, che i ben del mondo ha sì tra branche? + +Dante had no wish to level the spiritual windmills that lay in his +path: he left them standing, only seeking a proper reason for their +being there. Therefore he did not answer himself in the words of the +Tuscan proverb: "Chi crede in sorte, non crede in Dio;" but, on the +contrary, tried to prove that the two beliefs might be perfectly +reconciled. "He whose knowledge transcends all things" (is the reply) +"fashioned the heavens, and gave unto them a controlling force in such +wise that each part shines upon each, distributing equally the +light. Also to worldly splendours he ordained a general minister, and +captain, who should timely change the tide of vain prosperity from +race to race and from blood to blood. Why these prevail, and those +languish, according to her ruling, is hidden, like the snake in the +grass; your knowledge has in her no counterpart; she provides, +judges, and pursues her governance, as do theirs the other gods. Her +permutations have no truce, necessity makes her swift; for he is swift +in coming who would have his turn. This is she who is upbraided +even by those who should praise her, giving her blame wrongfully and +ill-repute; but she continues blessed, and hearkens not; glad among +the other primal creatures, she revolves her sphere, and being +blessed, rejoices." + +The peasants, the _pagani_ of Italy, did not give their name for +nothing to the entire system of antiquity. They were its last, its +most faithful adherents, and to this day their inmost being is +watered from the springs of the antique. They have preserved old-world +thoughts as they have preserved old-world pots and pans. In the +isolated Tuscan farm you will be lighted to your bed by a woman +carrying an oil lamp identical in form with those buried in Etruscan +tombs; on the Neapolitan hill-side a girl will give you to drink +out of a jar not to be distinguished from the amphoræ of Pompeii. A +stranger hunting in the campagna may often hear himself addressed with +the "Tu" of Roman simplicity. The living Italian people are the most +interesting of classical remains. Even their religion has helped +to perpetuate practices older than Italy. How is it possible, for +instance, to see the humble shrine by vineyard or maize field, +with its posy of flowers and its wreath of box hung before the mild +countenance of some local saint, without remembering what the chorus +says to Admetus: "Deem not, O king, of the tomb of thy wife as of +the vulgar departed; rather let it be kept in religious veneration, +a cynosure for the way-faring man. And as one climbs the slanting +pathway, these will be the words he utters: 'This was she who erewhile +laid down her life for her husband; now she is a saint for evermore. +Hail, blessed spirit, befriend and aid us!' Such the words that will +be spoken." + +Can it be doubted that the Catholic honour of the dead--nay, even the +cult of the Virgin, which crept so mysteriously into the exercise +of Christian worship--had birth, not in the councils of priests and +schoolmen, but in the all-unconscious grafting by the people of Italy +of the new faith upon an older stock? + +With this persistency of thought, observable in outward trifles, as in +the deepest yearnings of the soul, it would be strange if the Italian +mind had ceased to occupy itself with the old wonder about fate. The +folk-lore of the country will show the mould into which the ancient +speculations have been cast, and in how far these have undergone +change, whether in the sense of assimilating new theories or in that +of reverting to a still earlier order of ideas. + +They tell at Venice the story of a husbandman who had set his heart +on finding _one who was just_ to be sponsor to his new-born child. He +took the babe in his arms and went forth into the public ways to seek +_El Giusto_. He walked and walked and met a man (who was our Lord) and +to him he said, "I have got this son to christen, but I do not wish +to give him to any one who is not just. Are you just?" To him the Lord +replied, "But I do not know if I am just." Then the husbandman went +a little further and met a woman (who was the Madonna), and to her he +said, "I have this son to christen, but I only wish to give him to one +who is just. Are you just?" "I know not," said the Madonna; "but go a +little further and you will meet one who is just." After that, he went +a little further, and met another woman who was Death. "I have been +sent to you," he said, "for they say you are just. I have a child to +christen, and I do not wish to give him except to one who is just. +Are you just?" "Why, yes; I think I am just," said Death; "but let us +christen the babe and afterwards I will show you if I am just." So +the boy was christened, and then this woman led the husbandman into a +long, long room where there were an immense number of lighted lamps. +"Gossip," said the man, who marvelled at seeing so many lamps, "what +is the meaning of all these lights?" Said Death: "These are the lights +of all the souls that are in the world. Would you like just to see, +Gossip? That is yours, and that is your son's." And the husbandman, +who saw that his lamp was going out, said, "And when there is no more +oil, Gossip?" "Then," replied Death, "one has to come to me, for I +am Death." "Oh! for charity," said the husbandman, "do let me pour a +little of the oil out of my son's lamp into mine!" "No, no, Gossip," +said Death, "I don't go in for that sort of thing. A just one you +wished to meet, and a just one you have found. And now, go you to your +house and put your affairs in order, for I am waiting for you."[1] + +In this parable, we see a severe fatalism, which is still more +oriental than antique. + + ... God gives each man one life, like a lamp, then gives + That lamp due measure of oil.... + +The Mahomedans say that there are trees in heaven on each of whose +leaves is the name of a human being, and whenever one of these leaves +withers and falls, the man whose name it bears dies with it. The +conception of human life as of something bound up and incorporated +with an object seemingly foreign, lies at the very root of elementary +beliefs. In an Indian tale the life of a boy resides in a gold +necklace which is in the heart of a fish; in another a woman's life is +contained in a bird: when the bird is killed, the woman must perish. +In a third a prince plants a tree before he goes on a journey, saying +as he does so, "This tree is my life. When you see the tree green and +fresh, then know that it is well with me. When you see the tree fade +in some parts, then know that I am in an ill case. When you see the +whole tree fade, then know that I am dead and gone." + +According to a legend of wide extension--it is known from Esthonia to +the Pyrenees--all men were once aware of the hour of their death. But +one day Christ went by and saw a man raising a hedge of straw. "That +hedge will last but for a short while," He said; to which the man +answered, "It will be good for as long as I live; that it should last +longer, matters not;" and forthwith Christ ordained that no man should +thereafter know when he should die. + +The southern populations of Italy cling to the idea that from the +moment of a man's birth his future lot is decided, whether for good +or evil hap, and that he has but little power of altering or modifying +the irrevocable sentence. There are lucky and unlucky days to be born +on; lucky and unlucky circumstances attendant on an entry into the +world, which affect all stages of the subsequent career. He who is +born on the last day of the year, will always arrive late. It is very +unfortunate to be born when there is no moon. Anciently the moon was +taken as symbol both of Fortune, and of Hecate, goddess of Magic. +The Calabrian children have a song: "Moon, holy moon, send me good +fortune; thou shining, and I content, lustrous thou, I fortunate." +Also at Cagliari, in Sardinia, they sing: "Moon, my moon, give me +luck; give me money, so I may amuse myself; give it soon, so I may buy +sweetmeats." The changing phases of the moon doubtless contributed to +its identification with fortune; "Wind, women, and fortune," runs the +Basque proverb, "change like the moon." But yet more, its influence +over terrestrial phenomena, always mysterious to the ignorant observer +and by him readily magnified to any extent, served to connect it with +whatever occult, unaccountable power was uppermost in people's minds. + +In Italy, nothing is done without consulting the _Lunario_. All kinds +of roots and seeds must be planted with the new moon, or they will +bear no produce. Timber must be cut down with the old moon, or it will +quickly rot. These rules and many more are usually followed; and it +is reported as a matter of fact, that their infringement brings the +looked-for results. In the Neapolitan province, old women go to the +graveyards by night and count the tombs illuminated by the moonlight; +the sum total gives them a "number" for the lottery. The extraordinary +vagaries of superstition kept alive by the public lotteries are of +almost endless variety and complexity. No well-known man dies without +thousands of the poorest Neapolitans racking their brains with abtruse +calculations on the dates of his birth, death, and so on, in the hope +of discovering a lucky number. Fortune, chance (what, after all, shall +it be called?) sometimes strangely favours these pagan devices. When +Pio Nono died, the losses of the Italian exchequer were enormous; and +in January 1884, the numbers staked on the occasion of the death of +the patriot De Sanctis, produced winnings to the amount of over two +million francs. During the last cholera epidemic, the daily rate of +mortality was eagerly studied with a view to happy combinations. Even +in North Italy such things are not unknown. At Venice, when a notable +Englishman died some years ago in a hotel, the number of his room was +played next day by half the population. Domestic servants are among +the most inveterate gamblers; they all have their cabalistic books, +and a large part of their earnings goes to the insatiable "lotto." + +The feeling of helplessness in the hands of Fate is strongest in those +countries where there is the least control over Nature. The relations +between man and Nature affect not only the social life, but also the +theology and politics of whole races of men. A learned Armenian who +lives at Venice, came to London for a week in June to see some English +friends. It rained every day, and when he left Dover, the white +cliffs were enveloped in impenetrable fog. "I asked myself" (he wrote, +describing his experiences) "how it was possible that a great nation +should exist behind all that vapour?" It was suggested to him that +in the continual but, in the long run, victorious struggle with an +ungenial climate might lie the secret of the development of that great +nation. Different are the lands where the soil yields its increase +almost without the labour of man, till one fine day the whole is +swallowed up by flood or earthquake. + +The songs of luck, or rather of ill-luck, nearly all come from the +Calabrias. There are hundreds of variations upon the monotonous +theme of predestined misery. "In my mother's womb I began to have no +fortune; my swaddling clothes were woven of melancholy; when we +went to church, the woman who carried me died upon the way, and the +godfather who held me at the font said, 'Misfortunate art thou born, +my daughter!'" Here is another: "Hapless was I born, and with a +darkened moon; never did a fair day dawn for me. Habited in weeds, and +attended by cruel fortune, I sail upon a sea of grief and trouble." Or +this: "Wretched am I, for against me conspired heaven and fortune and +destiny; and the four elements decreed that never should I prosper: +earth would engulf me; air took away my breath; water flowed with my +tears; fire burnt this poor heart." Again: "I was created under an +ill-star; never had I an hour's content. By my friends I saw myself +forsaken, and chased away by my mistress. The heavens moved against +me, the stars, the planets, and fortune; if there is no better lot +for me, open thou earth and give me sepulchre!" The luckless wretch +imagines that the sea, even where it was deepest, dried up at his +birth; and the spring dried up for that year, and all the flowers that +were in the world dried up; and the birds went singing: "I am the most +luckless wight on earth!" Human friendship is a delusion: "I was the +friend of all, and a true friend--for my friends I reckoned life as +little." But he is not served so by others: "Wretched is he who trusts +in fortune; sad is he who hopes in human friendship! Every friend +abandons thee at need, and walks afar from thy sorrow." No good can +come to him who is born for ill: "When I was born, it was at sea, +amongst Turks and Moors. A gipsy asked to tell my fortune; 'Dig,' she +said, 'and thou shalt find a great treasure.' I took the spade in my +hand to dig, but I found neither silver nor gold. Traitress gipsy who +deceived me! Who is born afflicted, dies disconsolate." + +So continues the long tale of woe; childish in part, but withal tragic +by other force of iteration. This song of Nardò may be taken as its +epitome: + + The heavens were overcast when I was born; + No luck for me, no, luckless and forlorn, + E'en from my cradle, all forlorn was I; + No luck for me, no, grief for ever nigh. + I loved--my love was paid by fraud and scorn; + No luck for me, no, luckless and forlorn. + The stars and moon were darkened in the sky, + No luck for me, no, naught but misery! + +The Calabrians have a house-spirit called the _Auguriellu_, who +appears generally dressed as a little monk, and who has his post +especially by babies' cradles: he is thought to be one of the less +erring fallen angels, and is harmless and even beneficent if kindly +treated. The "house-women" (_Donne di casa_) of Sicily are also in the +habit of watching the sleep of infants. But in no part of Italy does +there seem to be any distinct recollection of the Parcae. In Greece, +on the other hand, the three dread sisters are still honoured by +propitiatory rites, and they figure frequently in the folk-lore of +Bulgaria and Albania. A Bulgarian song shows them weaving the destiny +of the infant Saviour. In M. Auguste Dozon's collection of Albanian +stories, there is one called "The sold child," which bears directly on +the survival of the Parcae. "There was an old man and woman who had no +children" (so runs the tale). "At last at the end of I do not know how +many years, God gave them a son, and their joy was without bounds that +the Lord had thus remembered them. Two nights had passed since the +birth, and the third drew nigh, when the Three Women would come to +assign the child his destiny. + +"That night it was raining so frightfully that nobody dared put his +nose out of doors, lest he should be carried away by the waters and +drowned. Nevertheless, who should arrive through the rain but a Pasha, +who asked the old man for a night's lodging. The latter, seeing that +it was a person of importance, was very glad; he put him in the place +of honour at the hearth, lit a large fire, gave him to eat what he +could find; and putting aside certain objects, which he set in a +corner, he made room for the Pasha's horse--for this house was only +half covered in, a part of the roof was missing. + +"The Pasha, when he was warmed and refreshed, had nothing more to do +but to go to sleep; but how can one let himself go to sleep when he +has I know not how many thousand piastres about him? + +"That night, as we have said already, the Three Women were to come and +apportion the child his destiny. They came, sure enough, and sat down +by the fire. The Pasha, at the sight of that, was in a great fright, +but he kept quiet, and did not make the least sound. + +"Let us leave the Pasha and busy ourselves with these women. The first +of the three said, 'This child will not live long; he will die early.' +The second said, replying to her who had just spoken, 'This child +will live many years, and then he will die by the hand of his father.' +Finally the third spoke as follows: 'My friends, what are you talking +about? This child will live sufficiently long to kill the Pasha you +see there, rob him of his authority, and marry his daughter.'" + +How the Pasha froze with fear when he heard that sentence, how he +persuaded the old man to let him have the child under pretence of +adopting him, how he endeavoured by every means, but vainly, to put +him out of the way, and how, in the end, he fell into an ambush he +had prepared for his predestined successor, must be read in M. Dozon's +entertaining pages. Though not precisely stated, it would seem that +the mistaken predictions of the two first women arose rather from a +misinterpretation of the future than from complete ignorance. The +boy but narrowly escaped the evils they threatened. In Scandinavian +traditions a disagreement among the Norns is not uncommon. In one +case, two Norns assign to a newborn child long life and happiness, but +the third and youngest decrees that he shall only live while a lighted +taper burns. The eldest Norn snatches the taper, puts it out, and +gives it to the child's mother, not to be kindled till the last day of +his life. + +In India it is the deity Bidhata-Purusha who forecasts the events of +each man's life, writing them succinctly on the forehead of the child +six days after birth. The apportionment of good and evil fortune +belongs to Lakshmi and Sani. Once they fell out in heaven, and Sani, +the giver of ill, said that he ranked higher than the beneficent +Lakshmi. The gods and goddesses were equally ranged on either side, +so the two disputants decided to refer the case to a just mortal. To +which end they approached a wise and wealthy man called Sribatsa. Now +Sribatsa means "the child of Fortune," Sri being one of the names of +Lakshmi. Sribatsa did not know what to do lest he should give offence +to one or the other of the celestial powers. At last he set out two +stools without saying a word; one was silver, and on that he bade Sani +sit; the other was gold, and to that he conducted Lakshmi. But Sani +was furious at having only the silver stool, so he swore that he would +cast his evil eye upon Sribatsa for three years, "and I should like to +see how you fare at the end of that time," he added. When he was gone, +Lakshmi said: "My child, do not fear; I'll befriend you." Needless to +say that after the three trial years were passed, Sribatsa became far +more prosperous than he had ever been before. + +Among the Parsis, a tray with writing materials including a sheet of +blank paper is placed by the mother's bed on the night of the sixth +day. The goddess who rules human destiny traces upon the paper the +course of the child's future, which henceforth cannot be changed, +though the writing is invisible to mortal eyes. + +In Calabria there is a plant called "Fortune's Grass," which is +suspended to the beams of the ceiling: if the leaves turn upwards, +Fortune is sure to follow; if downwards, things may be expected to go +wrong. The oracle is chiefly consulted on Ascension Day, when it is +asked to tell the secrets confided to it by Christ when He walked upon +the earth. + +Auguries, portents, charms, waxen images, votive offerings, the evil +eye and its antidotes, happy "finds," such as horseshoes, four-leaved +shamrocks, and two-tailed lizards: these, and an infinite number of +kindred superstitions, are closely linked with what may be called +the Science of Luck. Fortune and Hecate come into no mere chance +contiguity when they meet in the moon. For the rest, there is hardly +any popular belief that has not points of contact with magic, and that +is not in some sort made the more comprehensible by looking at the +premises on which magical rites rest. Magic is the power admitted to +exist among all classes not so very long ago, of entering by certain +processes into relation with invisible powers. For modern convenience +it was distinguished into black magic, and natural, and white--the +latter name being given when the intention of the operant was only +good or allowable, and when the powers invoked were only such as +might be supposed, whether great or small, to be working in good +understanding with the Creator. The reason of existence of all magic, +which runs up into unfathomable antiquity, lies in the maxim of the +ancient sages, Egyptian, Hebrew, Platonist, that all things visible +and sensible are but types of things or beings immediately above +them, and have their origin in such. Hence, in magical rites, black +or white, men used and offered to the unseen powers those words or +actions or substances which were conceived to be in correspondence +with their character or nature, employing withal certain secret +traditional man[oe]uvres. The lowest surviving form is fetish; +sacrifice also had a similar source; so had the Mosaic prescriptions, +in which only innocent rites and pure substances were to be employed. +Whereas the most horrible practices and repulsive substances have +always been associated with witches, necromancers, &c., who are +reported to have put their wills at the absolute disposal of the +infernal and malevolent powers who work in direct counter-action of +the decrees and providence of the Deity. Hence the renunciation of +baptism, treading on holy things, the significant act of saying the +Lord's Prayer backwards, _i.e._, in the opposite intention to that of +the author. This is the consummate sin of _pacti_, or, as it is said, +"selling the soul," and is the very opposite of divine magic or the +way of the typical saint: "Present yourselves a living sacrifice (not +a dead carcase) in body, soul, and spirit." To persons in the last +condition unusual effects have been ascribed, as it was believed that +those who had put themselves at the absolute disposal of the malignant +powers were also enabled to effect singular things, on the wrong side, +indeed, and very inferior in order, so long as the agreement held +good. + +The most sensible definition of magic is "an effect sought to be +produced by antecedents obviously inadequate in themselves." Certain +words, gestures, practices, have been recognised on the tradition of +ancient experience to have certain remedial or other properties or +consequents, and they are used in all simplicity by persons who can +find no other reason than that they are thought to succeed. + +One of the most remarkable of early ideas still current about human +destiny is that which pictures each man coupled with a personal and +individualised fate. This fate may be beneficent or maleficent, a +guardian angel or a possessive fiend; or it may, in appearance at +least, combine both functions. The belief in a personal fate was +deeply rooted among the Greeks and Romans, and proved especially +acceptable to the Platonists. Socrates' dæmon comes to mind: but in +that case the analogy is not clear, because the inward voice to +which the name of dæmon was afterwards given, was rather a personal +conscience than a personal fate--a difference that involves the whole +question of the responsibility of man. But the evil genii of Dion the +Syracusan and of Brutus were plainly "personal fates." Dion's evil +genius appeared to him when he was sitting alone in the portico before +his house one evening; it had the form of a gigantic woman, like one +of the furies as they were represented on the stage, sweeping the +floor with a broom. It did not speak, but the apparition was followed +by the death of Dion's son, who jumped in a fit of childish passion +from the house-top, and soon after, Dion himself was assassinated. +Brutus' dæmon was, as every-one knows, a monstrous spectre that seemed +to be standing beside him in his tent one night, a little while before +he left Asia, and which, on being questioned, said to him, "I am thy +evil genius, Brutus, thou wilt see me at Philippi." + +We catch sight again of the personal fate in the relations of +Antony with the young Octavius. Antony had in his house an Egyptian +astrologer, who advised him by all means to keep away from the young +man, "for your genius," he said, "is in fear of his; when it is alone +its port is erect and fearless, when his approaches it, it is dejected +and depressed." There were circumstances, says Plutarch, that carried +out this view, for in every kind of play, whether they cast lots or +cast the die, Antony was still the loser; in their cock fights and +quail fights, it was still "Cæsar's cock and Cæsar's quail." + +In ancient Norse and Teutonic traditions, where Salida, or Frau Sælde, +takes the place of Fortuna, we find indications of the personal fate, +both kindly and unkindly. The fate appeared to its human turn chiefly +in the hour of death, that is, in the hour of parting company. +Sometimes it was attached not to one person, but to a whole family, +passing on from one to another, as in the case of the not yet extinct +superstition of the White Lady of the Hohenzollerns. + +In a very old German story, quoted by Jacob Grimm, a poor knight is +shown, eating his frugal meal in a wood, who on looking up, sees +a monstrous creature among the boughs which cries, "I am thy +_ungelücke_!" The knight asks his "ill-luck" to share his meal, and +when it comes down, catches it, and shuts it up in a hollow oak. +Someone, who wishes to do him an ill-turn, lets out the _ungelücke_; +but instead of reverting to the knight, it jumps on the back of its +evil-minded deliverer. + +In the Sicilian story of "Feledico and Epomata," one of those +collected by Fraülein Laura Gonzenbach,[2] a childless king and queen +desire to have children. One day they see a soothsayer going by: they +call him in, and he says that the queen will bear a son, but that he +will die when he is eighteen years of age. The grief of the royal pair +is extreme, and they ask the soothsayer for advice what to do. He can +only suggest that they should shut the child up in a tower till the +unlucky hour be past, after which his fate will have no more power +over him. This is accordingly done, and the child sees no one in the +tower but the nurse and a lady of the court, whom he believes to be +his mother. One day, when the lady has gone to make her report to the +queen, the boy hears his fate crying to him in his sleep, and asking +why he stays shut up there, when his real father and mother are king +and queen and live in a fine castle? He makes inquiries, and at first +is pacified by evasive answers, but after three visits of his fate, +who always utters the same words, he insists on going to the castle +and seeing his father and mother. "His fate has found him out, there +is no good in resisting it," says the queen. However, by the agency +of Epomata, the beautiful daughter of an enchantress, who had conveyed +the prince to her castle, and had provided for his execution on the +very day ordained by his fate, Feledico tides over the fatal moment +and attains a good old age. + +Hahn states that the Greek name of [Greek: Moirai] is given by the +Albanians to what I have called personal fates, as well as to the +Parcae; but the Turkish designation of _Bakht_, meaning a sort of +protecting spirit, seems to be in more common use. The Albanian +story-teller mentions a negress who is in want of some sequins, and +who says, "Go and find my fortune (_Bakht_), but first make her a +cake, and when you offer it to her, ask her for a few gold pieces." + + +A like propitiatory offering of food to one's personal fate forms a +feature of a second Sicilian story which is so important in all its +bearings on the subject in hand, that it would not do to abridge it. +Here it is, therefore, in its entirety. + + There was a certain merchant who was so rich that he had + treasures which not even the king possessed. In his audience + chamber there were three beautiful arm-chairs, one of silver, + one of gold, and one of diamonds. This merchant had an only + daughter of the name of Caterina, who was fairer than the sun. + One day Caterina sat alone in her room, when suddenly the door + opened of itself, and there entered a tall and beautiful lady, + who held a wheel in her hands. "Caterina," said she, "when + would you like best to enjoy your life? in youth, or in age?" + Caterina gazed at her in amazement, and could not get over her + stupor. The beautiful lady asked again, "Caterina, when do you + wish to enjoy your life in youth or in age?" Then Caterina + thought, "If I say in youth, I shall have to suffer in age; + hence I prefer to enjoy my life in age, and in youth I must + get on as the Lord wills." So she said, "In age." "Be it unto + you according to your desire," said the beautiful lady, who + gave a turn to her wheel, and disappeared. This tall and + beautiful lady was poor Caterina's fate. After a few days her + father received the sudden news that several of his ships had + gone down in a storm; again, after a few days, other of his + ships met with the same fate, and to make a long story short, + a month had not gone by before he saw himself despoiled of all + his wealth. He had to sell everything, and remained poor and + miserable, and finally he fell ill and died. Thus poor + Caterina was left alone in the world, and no one would give + her a home. Then she thought, "I will go to another city and + will seek a place as serving-maid." She wandered a long way + till she reached another city. As she passed down the street, + she saw at a window a worthy-looking lady, who questioned her. + "Where are you going, all alone, fair girl?" "Oh! noble lady, + I am a poor girl, and I would willingly go into service to + earn my bread. Could you, by chance, employ me?" The worthy + lady engaged her, and Caterina served her faithfully. After a + few days the lady said one evening, "Caterina, I am going out, + and shall lock the house-door." "Very well," said Caterina, + and when her mistress was gone, she took her work and began to + sew. Suddenly the door opened, and her fate came in. "So!" + cried this one, "you are here, Caterina, and you think that I + shall leave you in peace!" With these words, she ran to the + cupboards and turned out the linen and clothes of Caterina's + mistress, and threw them all about the room. Caterina thought, + "When my mistress returns and finds everything in such a + state, she will kill me!" And out of fear she broke open the + door and fled. But her fate made all the things right again, + and gathered them up and put them in their places. When the + mistress came home, she called Caterina, but she could not + find her anywhere. She thought she must have robbed her, but + when she looked at her cupboards, she saw that nothing was + missing. She wondered greatly, but Caterina never came + back--she ran and ran till she reached another city, when, as + she passed along the street, she saw once more a lady at a + window, who asked her, "Where are you going, all alone, fair + girl?" "Ah! noble lady, I am a poor girl, and I wish to find a + place so as to earn my bread. Could you take me?" The lady + took her into her service, and Caterina thought now to remain + in peace. Only a few days had passed, when one evening, when + the lady was out, Caterina's fate appeared again, and spoke + hard words to her, saying, "So you are here, are you? and you + think to escape from me?" Then she scattered whatever she + could lay hands on, and poor Caterina once more fled out of + fright. + + To be brief, poor Caterina had to lead this terrible life for + seven years, flying from city to city in search of a place. + Whenever she entered service, after a few days her fate always + appeared and disordered her mistress' things, and so the poor + girl had to fly. As soon as she was gone, however, her fate + repaired all the damage that had been done. At last, after + seven years, it seemed as if the unhappy Caterina's fate was + weary of persecuting her. One day she arrived in a city where + she saw a lady at a window, who said, "Where go you, all + alone, fair girl?" "Ah! noble lady, I am a poor girl, and + willingly would I enter service to earn my bread; could you + employ me?" The lady replied, "I will take you, but every day + you will have to do me a certain service, and I am not sure + that you have the strength." "Tell me what it is," said + Caterina, "and if I can, I will do it." "Do you see that high + mountain?" said the lady; "every morning you will have to + carry up to the top a baker's tray of new bread, and then you + must cry aloud, 'O fate of my mistress!' three times repeated. + My fate will appear and will receive the bread." "I will do it + willingly," said Caterina, and thereupon the lady engaged her. + With this lady Caterina stayed many years, and every morning + she carried the tray of fresh bread up the mountain, and after + she had cried three times, "O fate of my mistress!" there + appeared a beautiful, stately lady, who received the bread. + Caterina often wept, thinking how she, who was once so rich, + had now to work like any poor girl, and one day her mistress + asked her, "Why are you always crying?" Caterina told her how + ill things had gone with her, and her mistress said, "You + know, Caterina, when you take the bread up the mountain + to-morrow? Well, do you beg my fate to try and persuade yours + to leave you in peace. Perhaps this may do some good." The + advice pleased poor Caterina, and the following morning when + she carried up the bread, she told her mistress' fate of the + sore straits she was in, and said, "O fate of my mistress, + pray ask my fate no longer to torment me." "Ah! poor girl," + the fate answered, "your fate is covered with a sevenfold + covering, and that is why she cannot hear you. But to-morrow + when you come, I will lead you to her." When Caterina had gone + home, her mistress' fate went to her fate, and said, "Dear + sister, why are you not tired of persecuting poor Caterina? + Let her once again see happy days." The fate replied, + "To-morrow bring her to me; I will give her something that + will supply all her needs." The next morning, when Caterina + brought the bread, her mistress' fate conducted her to her own + fate, who was covered with a sevenfold covering. The fate gave + her a skein of silk, and said, "Take care of it, it will be of + use to you." After she had returned home, Caterina said to her + mistress, "My fate has made me a present of a skein of silk; + what ought I to do with it?" "It is not worth three grains of + corn," said the mistress. "Keep it, all the same; who knows + what it may be good for?" + + After some time, it happened that the young king was about to + take a wife, and, therefore, he had himself made some new + clothes. But when the tailor was going to make up one fine + piece of stuff, he could not anywhere find silk of the same + colour with which to sew it. The king had it cried through the + land, that whosoever had silk of the right colour was to bring + it to court, and would be well paid for his pains. "Caterina," + said her mistress, "your skein of silk is of that colour; take + it to the king and he will make you a fine present." Caterina + put on her best gown, and went to court, and when she came + before the king, she was so beautiful that he could not take + his eyes off her. "Royal Majesty," she said, "I have brought a + skein of silk of the colour you could not find." "Royal + majesty," cried one of the ministers, "we should give her the + weight of her silk in gold." The king agreed, and the scales + were brought in. On one side the king placed the skein of + silk, and on the other a gold piece. Now, what do you think + happened? The silk was always the heaviest, no matter how many + gold pieces the king placed in the balance. Then he ordered a + larger pair of scales, and he put all his treasure to the one + side, but the silk remained the heaviest. Then he took his + gold crown off his head and set it with the other treasure, + and upon that the two scales became even. + + "Where did you get this silk?" asked the king. "Royal Majesty, + my mistress gave it to me." "That is not possible," cried the + king. "If you do not tell me the truth I will have your head + cut off!" Caterina related all that had happened to her since + the time when she was a rich maiden. At Court there was a very + wise lady, who said: "Caterina, you have suffered much, but + now you will see happy days, and since the gold crown made the + balance even, it is a sign that you will live to be a queen." + "She shall be a queen," cried the king, "I will make her a + queen! Caterina and no other shall be my bride." And so it + was. The king sent to his bride to say that he no longer + wanted her, and married the fair Caterina, who, after much + suffering in youth, enjoyed her age in full prosperity, living + happy and content, whereof we have assured testimony. + +The most suggestive passages in this ingenious story are those which +refer to the relative positions of a man and his fate, and of one fate +to another. On these points something further is to be gleaned from +an Indian, a Servian, and a Spanish tale, all having a family likeness +amongst themselves, and a strong affinity with our story. The Indian +variant is one of the collection due to the youthful energies of Miss +Maive Stokes, whose book of "Indian Fairy Tales" is a model of +what such a book ought to be. The Servian tale is to be found in +Karadschitsch's "Volksmaerschen der Serben;" the Spanish in Fernan +Caballero's "Cuentos y Poesias Populares Andaluses." The chief +characteristics of the personal fates, as they appear in folk-lore, +may be briefly summarised. In the first place, they know each other, +and are acquainted up to a given point with one another's secrets. +Thus, in the Servian story, a man who goes to seek his fate is +commissioned by persons he meets on the road to ask it questions +touching their own private concerns. A rich householder wants to know +why his servants are always hungry, however much food he gives them +to eat, and why "his aged, miserable father and mother do not die?" +A farmer would have him ask why his cattle perish; and a river, whose +waters bear him across, is anxious to know why no living thing dwells +in it. The fate gives a satisfactory answer to each inquiry. + +The fates exercise a certain influence, one over the other, and hence +over the destinies of the people in their charge. Caterina's mistress' +fate intercedes for her with her own fate. The attention of the fates +is not always fixed on the persons under them: they may be prevented +from hearing by fortuitous circumstances, such as the "seven coverings +or veils" of Caterina's fate, or they may be asleep, or absent from +home. Their home, by the by, is invariably placed in a spot very +difficult to get at. In the Spanish variant, the palace of Fortune is +raised "where our Lord cried three times and was not heard"--it is up +a rock so steep that not even a goat can climb it, and the sunbeams +lose their footing when trying to reach the top. A personal fate is +propitiated by suitable offerings, or, if obdurate, it may be brought +to reason by a well-timed punishment. The Indian beats his fate-stone, +just as the Ostyak beats his fetish if it does not behave well and +bring him sport. The Sicilian story gives no hint of this alternative, +but it is one strictly in harmony with the Italian way of thinking, +whether ancient or modern. Statius' declaration: + + Fataque, et injustos rabidis pulsare querelis + Cælicolas solamen erat ... + +was frequently put into practice, as when, upon the death of +Germanicus, the Roman populace cast stones at the temples, and the +altars were levelled to the ground, and the Lares thrown into the +street. Again, Augustus took revenge on Neptune for the loss of his +fleet, by not allowing his image to be carried in the procession of +the Circensian games. It is on record that at Florence, in 1498, a +ruined gamester pelted the image of the Virgin with horse dung. Luca +Landucci, who tells the story, says that the Florentines were shocked; +but in the southern kingdom the incident would have passed without +much notice. The Neapolitans have hardly now left off heaping +torrents of abuse on San Gennaro if he fails to perform the miracle +of liquefaction quick enough. Probably every country could furnish an +illustration. In the grand procession of St Leonhard, the Bavarians +used from time to time to drop the Saint into the river, as a sort of +gentle warning. + +The physical presentment of the personal fate differs considerably. +According to the Indian account, "the fates are stones, some standing, +and others lying on the ground." It has been said that this looks like +a relic of stock and stone worship: which is true if it can be said +unreservedly that anyone ever worshipped a stock or a stone. +The lowest stage of fetish worship only indicates a diseased +spiritualism--a mental state in which there is no hedge between the +real and the imagined. No savage ever supposed that his fetish was a +simple three-cornered stone and nothing more. If one could guess +the thoughts of the pigeon mentioned by Mr Romanes as worshipping a +gingerbeer bottle, it would be surely seen that this pigeon +believed his gingerbeer bottle to be other than a piece of unfeeling +earthenware. It is, however, a sign of progress when man begins to +picture the ruling powers not as stones, or even as animals, but as +men. This point is reached in the Servian narrative, where the hero's +fortune is a hag given to him as his luck by fate. In the Spanish +tale, the aspect of the personal fate varies with its character: the +fortunate man's fate is a lovely girl, the fate of the unfortunate +man being a toothless old woman. In the _Pentamerone_ of Giambattista +Basile, Fortune is also spoken of as an old woman, but this seems a +departure from the true Italian ideal, which is neither a stone nor a +luck-hag, nor yet a varying fair-and-foul fortune, but a "bella, alta +Signora:" the imposing figure that surmounts the wheel of fortune +on the marble pavement of the Cathedral of Siena. It is a graver +conception than the gracefully fickle goddess of Jean Cousin's "Liber +Fortunæ": + + ... On souloit la pourtraire, + Tenant un voile afin d'aller au gré du vent + Des aisles aux costez pour voler bien avant. + +Shakespeare had the Emblematist's Fortune in his mind when he wrote: +"Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify +to you, which is the moral of it, that she is turning, and inconstant, +and mutability, and variation: and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a +spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls." + +In hands less light than Cousin's, it was easy for the Fortune of the +emblem writers to become grotesque, and to lose all artistic merit. +The Italian Fortuna does not in the least lend herself to caricature. +In Italy, the objects of thought, even of the common people, have +the tendency to assume concrete and æsthetic forms--a fact of great +significance in the history of a people destined to render essential +service to art. + +The "tall, beautiful lady" of the Sicilian story, reappears in a +series of South Italian folk-songs which contains further evidence of +this unconsciously artistic instinct. The Italian folk-poet, for the +most part, lets the lore of tradition altogether alone. It does not +lie in his province, which is purely lyrical. But he has seized upon +Fortune as a myth very capable of lyrical treatment, and following the +free bent of his genius, he has woven out of his subject the delicate +fancies of these songs. A series in the sense of being designed to +form a consecutive whole, they, of course, are not. No two, probably, +had the same author; the perfect individuality of the figure +presented, only showing how a type may be so firmly fixed that the +many have no difficulty in describing it with the consistency of one +man who draws the creation of his own brain. + + I. + + Once in the gloaming, Fortune met me here; + Fair did she seem, and Love was on me laid, + Her hair was raised, as were it half a sphere, + Flowered on her breast a rose that cannot fade. + Then said I, "Fortune, thou without a peer, + What rule shall tell the measure of thine aid?" + "The pathway of the moon through all the year, + The channel of the exhaustless sea," she said. + + II. + + One night, the while I slept, drew Fortune near, + At once I loved, such beauty she displayed; + A crescent moon did o'er her brows appear, + And in her hand a wheel that never stayed. + Then said I to her, "O my mistress dear, + Grant all my wishes, mine if thou wilt aid." + But she turned from me with dark sullen cheer + And "Never!" as she turned, was all she said. + + III. + + I saw my Fortune midst the sounding sea + Sit weeping on a rocky height and steep, + Said I to her, "Fortune, how is't with thee?" + "I cannot help thee, child" (so answered she), + "I cannot help thee more--so must I weep." + How sweet were those her tears, how sweet, ah me! + Even the fishes wept within the deep. + + IV. + + One day did Fortune call me to her side, + "What are the things," she asked, "that thou hast done?" + Then answered I, "Dear mistress, I have tried + To grave them upon marble, every one." + "Ah! maddest of the mad!" so she replied, + "Better hadst writ on sand than wrought in stone; + He who to marble should his love confide, + Loves when he loves till all his wits are gone." + + V. + + There where I lay asleep came Fortune in, + She came the while I slept and bid me wake, + "What dost thou now?" she said, "companion mine? + What dost thou now? Wilt thou then love forsake? + Arise," she said, "and take this violin, + And play till every stone thereat shall wake." + I was asleep when Fortune came to me, + And bid me rise, and led me unto thee! + +These songs come from different villages; from Caballino and Morciano +in Calabria, from Corigliano and Calimera in Terra d'Otranto; the two +last are in the Greek dialect spoken in the latter district. There are +a great many more, in all of which the same sweet and serious type +is preserved; but the above quintet suffices to give a notion of this +modern Magna-Græcian Idyll of Fortune. + + [Footnote 1: In a Breton variant the "Bon Dieu" is the first + to offer himself as sponsor, but is refused by the peasant, + "Because you are not just; you slay the honest bread-winner + and the mother whose children can scarce run alone, and you + let folks live who never brought aught but shame and sorrow on + their kindred." Death is accepted, "Because at least you take + the rich as well as the poor, the young as well as the old." + The German tale of "Godfather Death" begins in the same way, + but ends rather differently, as it is the godson and not the + father who is shown the many candles, and who vainly requests + Death to give him a new one instead of his own which is nearly + burnt out. A poem by Hans Sachs (1553) contains reference to + the legend, of which there are also Provençal and Hungarian + versions.] + + [Footnote 2: Laura Gonzenbach was the daughter of the Swiss + Consul at Messina, where she was born. At an early age she + developed uncommon gifts, and she was hardly twenty when she + made her collection of Sicilian stories, almost exclusively + gathered from a young servant-girl who did not know how to + write or read. It was with great difficulty that a publisher + was found who would bring out the book. Fräulein Gonzenbach + married Colonel La Racine, a Piedmontese officer, and died + five or six years ago, being still quite young. A relation of + hers, from whom I have these particulars, was much surprised + to hear that the _Sicilianische Märchen_ is widely known as + one of the best works of its class. It is somewhat singular + that the preservation of Italian folk-tales should have been + so substantially aided by two ladies not of Italian origin: + Fräulein Gonzenbach and Miss R. H. Busk, author of "The + Folk-lore of Rome."] + + + + +FOLK-LULLABIES. + + ... A nurse's song + Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. + + +Infancy is a great mystery. We know that we each have gone over that +stage in human life, though even this much is not always quite easy to +realise. But what else do we know about it? Something by observation, +something by intuition; by experience hardly anything at all. We have +as much personal acquaintance with a lake-dwelling or stone age infant +as with our proper selves at the time when we were passing through the +"avatar" of babyhood. The recollections of our earliest years are at +most only as the confused remembrance of a morning dream, which at one +end fades into the unconsciousness of sleep, whilst at the other it +mingles with the realities of awaking. And yet, as a fact, we did not +sleep through all the dawn of our life, nor were we unconscious; only +we were different from what we now are; the term "thinking animal" did +not then fit us so well. We were less reasonable and less material. +Babies have a way of looking at you that makes you half suspect that +they belong to a separate order of beings. You speculate as to whether +they have not invisible wings, which drop off afterwards as do the +birth wings of the young ant. There is one thing, however, in which +the baby is very human, very manlike. Of all newborn creatures he is +the least happy. You may sometimes see a little child crying softly +to himself with a look of world woe on his face that is positively +appalling. Perhaps human existence, like a new pair of shoes, is very +uncomfortable till one gets accustomed to it. Anyhow the child, being +for some reason or reasons exceedingly disposed to vex its heart, +needs much soothing. In one highly civilised country a good many +mothers are in the habit of going to the nearest druggist for the +means to tranquillise their offspring, with the result that these +latter are not unfrequently rescued from the sea of sorrows in the +most final and expeditious way. In less advanced states of society +another expedient has been resorted to from time immemorial--to wit, +the cradle song. + +Babies show an early appreciation of rhythm. They rejoice in measured +noise, whether it takes the form of words, music, or the jingle of a +bunch of keys. In the way of poetry I am afraid they must be admitted +to have a perverse preference for what goes by the name of sing-song. +It will be a long time before the infantine public are brought round +to Walt Whitman's views on versification. For the rest, they are not +very severe critics. The small ancient Roman asked for nothing better +than the song of his nurse-- + + Lalla, lalla, lalla, + Aut dormi, aut lacta. + +This two-line lullaby constitutes one of the few but sufficing proofs +which have come down to us of the existence among the people of old +Rome of a sort of folk verse not by any means resembling the Latin +classics, but bearing a considerable likeness to the _canti popolari_ +of the modern Italian peasant. It may be said parenthetically that +the study of dialect tends altogether to the conviction that there are +country people now living in Italy to whom, rather than to Cicero, we +should go if we want to know what style of speech was in use among +the humbler subjects of the Cæsars. The lettered language of the +cultivated classes changes; the spoken tongue of the uneducated +remains the same; or, if it too undergoes a process of change, the +rate at which it moves is to the other what the pace of a tortoise +is to the speed of an express train. About eight hundred years ago +a handful of Lombards went to Sicily, where they still preserve the +Lombard idiom. The Ober-Engadiner could hold converse with his remote +ancestors who took refuge in the Alps three or four centuries before +Christ; the Aragonese colony at Alghero, in Sardinia, yet discourses +in Catalan; the Roumanian language still contains terms and +expressions which, though dissimilar to both Latin and standard +Italian, find their analogues in the dialects of those eastward-facing +"Latin plains" whence, in all probability, the people of Roumania +sprang. But we must return to our lullabies. + +There exists another Latin cradle song, not indeed springing from +classical times, but which, were popular tradition to be trusted, +would have an origin greatly more illustrious than that of the laconic +effusion of the Roman nurse. It is composed in the person of the +Virgin Mary, and was, in bygone days, believed to have been actually +sung by her. Authorities differ as to its real age, some insisting +that the peculiar structure of the verse was unknown before the 12th +century. There is, however, good reason to think that the idea of +composing lullabies for the Virgin belongs to an early period. + + Dormi, fili, dormi! mater + Cantat unigenito: + Dormi puer, dormi! pater + Nato clamat parvulo: + Millies tibi laudes canimus + Mille, mille, millies. + + Lectum stravi tibi soli, + Dormi, nate bellule! + Stravi lectum foeno molli: + Dormi mi animule. + Millies tibi laudes canimus + Mille, mille, millies. + + Dormi, decus et corona! + Dormi, nectar lacteum! + Dormi, mater dabo dona, + Dabo favum melleum. + Millies tibi laudes canimus + Mille, mille, millies. + + Dormi, nate mi mellite! + Dormi plene saccharo, + Dormi, vita, meae vitae, + Casto natus utero. + Millies tibi laudes canimus + Mille, mille, millies. + + Quidquid optes, volo dare; + Dormi, parve pupule + Dormi, fili! dormi carae, + Matris deliciolae! + Millies tibi laudes canimus + Mille, mille, millies. + + Dormi cor, et meus thronus; + Dormi matris jubilum; + Aurium caelestis sonus, + Et suave sibilum! + Millies tibi laudes canimus + Mille, mille, millies. + + Dormi fili! dulce, mater + Duke melos concinam; + Dormi, nate! suave, pater, + Suave carmen accinam. + Millies tibi laudes canimus + Mille, mille, millies. + + Ne quid desit, sternam rosis, + Sternam foenum violis, + Pavimentum hyacinthis + Et praesepe liliis. + Millies tibi laudes canimus + Mille, mille, millies. + + Si vis musicam, pastores + Convocabo protinus; + Illis nulli sunt priores; + Nemo canit castius. + Millies tibi laudes canimus + Mille, mille, millies. + +Everybody who is in Rome at Christmas-tide makes a point of visiting +Santa Maria in Ara C[oe]li, the church which stands to the right of +the Capitol, where once the temple of Jupiter Feretrius is supposed +to have stood. What is at that season to be seen in the Ara C[oe]li is +well enough known--to one side a "presepio," or manger, with the ass, +the ox, St Joseph, the Virgin, and the Child on her knee; to the other +side a throng of little Roman children rehearsing in their infantine +voices the story that is pictured opposite.[1] The scene may be taken +as typical of the cult of the Infant Saviour, which, under one form +or another, has existed distinct and separable from the main stem of +Christian worship ever since a Voice in Judæa bade man seek after the +Divine in the stable of Bethlehem. It is almost a commonplace to say +that Christianity brought fresh and peculiar glory alike to infancy +and to motherhood. A new sense came into the words of the oracle-- + + Thee in all children, the eternal Child ... + +And the mother, sublimely though she appears against the horizon of +antiquity, yet rose to a higher rank--because the highest--at the +founding of the new faith. Especially in art she left the second place +that she might take the first. The sentiment of maternal love, as +illustrated, as transfigured, in the love of the Virgin for her Divine +Child, furnished the great Italian painters with their master motive, +whilst in his humble fashion the obscure folk-poet exemplifies the +selfsame thought. I am not sure that the rude rhymes of which the +following is a rendering do not convey, as well as can be conveyed in +articulate speech, the glory and the grief of the Dresden Madonna: + + Sleep, oh sleep, dear Baby mine, + King Divine; + Sleep, my Child, in sleep recline; + Lullaby, mine Infant fair, + Heaven's King + All glittering, + Full of grace as lilies rare. + + Close thine eyelids, O my treasure, + Loved past measure, + Of my soul, the Lord, the pleasure; + Lullaby, O regal Child, + On the hay + My joy I lay; + Love celestial, meek and mild. + + Why dost weep, my Babe? alas! + Cold winds that pass + Vex, or is 't the little ass? + Lullaby, O Paradise; + Of my heart + Though Saviour art; + On thy face I press a kiss. + + Wouldst thou learn so speedily, + Pain to try, + To heave a sigh? + Sleep, for thou shalt see the day + Of dire scath, + Of dreadful death, + To bitter scorn and shame a prey. + + Rays now round thy brow extend, + But in the end + A crown of cruel thorns shall bend. + Lullaby, O little one, + Gentle guest + Who for thy rest + A manger hast, to lie upon. + + Born in winter of the year, + Jesu dear, + As the lost world's prisoner. + Lullaby (for thou art bound + Pain to know, + And want and woe), + Mid the cattle standing round. + + Beauty mine, sleep peacefully; + Heaven's monarch! see, + With my veil I cover thee. + Lullaby, my Spouse, my Lord, + Fairest Child + Pure, undefiled, + Thou by all my soul adored. + + Lo! the shepherd band draws nigh; + Horns they ply + Thee their Lord to glorify. + Lullaby, my soul's delight, + For Israel, + Faithless and fell, + Thee with cruel death would smite. + + Now the milk suck from my breast, + Holiest, best, + Thy kind eyes thou openest. + Lullaby, the while I sing; + Holy Jesu + Now sleep anew, + My mantle is thy sheltering. + + Sleep, sleep, thou who dost heaven impart + My Lord thou art; + Sleep, as I press thee to my heart. + Poor the place where thou dost lie, + Earth's loveliest! + Yet take thy rest; + Sleep my Child, and lullaby. + +It would be interesting to know if Mrs Browning ever heard any one of +the many variants of this lullaby before writing her poem "The Virgin +Mary to the Child Jesus." The version given above was communicated to +me by a resident at Vallauria, in the heart of the Ligurian Alps. In +that district it is sung in the churches on Christmas Eve, when out +abroad the mountains sleep soundly in their snows and a stray wolf +is not an impossible apparition, nothing reminding you that you are +within a day's journey of the citron groves of Mentone. + +There are several old English carols which bear a strong resemblance +to the Italian sacred lullabies. One, current at least as far back as +the time of Henry IV., is preserved among the Sloane MSS.: + + Lullay! lullay! lytel child, myn owyn dere fode, + How xalt thou sufferin be nayled on the rode. + So blyssid be the tyme! + + Lullay! lullay! lytel child, myn owyn dere smerte, + How xalt thou sufferin the scharp spere to Thi herte? + So blyssid be the tyme! + + Lullay! lullay! lytel child, I synge all for Thi sake, + Many on is the scharpe schour to Thi body is schape. + So blyssid be the tyme! + + Lullay! lullay! lytel child, fayre happis the befalle, + How xalt thou sufferin to drynke ezyl and galle? + So blyssid be the tyme! + + Lullay! lullay! lytel child, I synge al beforn + How xalt thou sufferin the scharp garlong of thorn? + So blyssid be the tyme! + + Lullay! lullay! lytel child, gwy wepy Thou so sore, + Thou art bothin God and man, gwat woldyst Thou be more? + So blyssid be the tyme! + +Here, as in the Piedmontese song, the "shadow of the cross" makes its +presence distinctly felt, whereas in the Latin lullaby it is wholly +absent. Nor are there any dark or sad forebodings in the fragment: + + Dormi Jesu, mater ridet, + Quæ; tam dulcem somnum videt, + Dormi, Jesu blandule. + Si non dormis, mater plorat, + Inter fila cantans orat: + Blande, veni Somnule. + +Many Italian Christmas cradle songs are in this lighter strain. +In Italy and Spain a _presepio_ or _nacimento_ is arranged in +old-fashioned houses on the eve of Christmas, and all kinds of songs +are sung or recited before the white image of the Child as it lies in +its bower of greenery. "Flower of Nazareth sleep upon my breast, my +heart is thy cradle," sing the Tuscans, who curiously call Christmas +"the Yule-log Easter." In Sicily a thousand endearing epithets are +applied to the Infant Saviour: "figghiu duci," "Gesiuzzi beddu," +"Gesiuzzi picchiureddi." The Sicilian poet relates how once, when the +Madunazza was mending St Joseph's clothes, the Bambineddu cried in His +cradle because no one was attending to Him; so the archangel Raphael +came down and rocked Him, and said three sweet little words to Him, +"Lullaby, Jesus, Son of Mary!" Another time, when the Child was older +and the mother was going to visit St Anne, he wept because He wished +to go too. The mother let Him accompany her on condition that He would +not break St Anne's bobbins. Yet another time the Virgin went to the +fair to buy flax, and the Child said that He too would like to have +a fairing. The Virgin buys Him a tambourine, and angels descend to +listen to His playing. Such stories are endless; some, no doubt, are +invented on the spur of the moment, but the larger portion are scraps +of old legendary lore. Not a few of the popular beliefs, relating to +the Infant Jesus may be traced to the apocryphal Gospels, which were +extensively circulated during the earlier Christian centuries. +There is, for instance, a Provençal song containing the legend of an +apple-tree that bowed its branches to the Virgin, which is plainly +derived from this source. Speaking of Provence, one ought not to +forget the famous "Troubadour of Bethlehem," Saboly, who was born in +1640, and who composed more than sixty _noëls_. Five pretty lines of +his form an epitome of sacred lullabies: + + Faudra dire, faudra dire, + Quauco cansoun, + Au garçoun, + A la façoun + D'aquelo de _soum-soum_. + +George Wither deserves remembrance here for what he calls a "Rocking +hymn," written about the year of Saboly's birth. "Nurses," he says, +"usually sing their children asleep, and through want of pertinent +matter they oft make use of unprofitable, if not worse, songs; this +was therefore prepared that it might help acquaint them and their +nurse children with the loving care and kindness of their Heavenly +Father." Consciously or unconsciously, Wither caught the true spirit +of the ancient carols in the verses--charming in spite, or perhaps +because of their demure simplicity--which follow his little exordium: + + Sweet baby, sleep: what ails my dear; + What ails my darling thus to cry? + Be still, my child, and lend thine ear, + To hear me sing thy lullaby. + My pretty lamb, forbear to weep; + Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep. + + Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear? + What thing to thee can mischief do? + Thy God is now thy Father dear, + His holy Spouse thy mother too. + Sweet baby, then forbear to weep; + Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.... + + Whilst thus thy lullaby I sing, + For thee great blessings ripening be; + Thine eldest brother is a king, + And hath a kingdom bought for thee. + Sweet baby, then forbear to weep; + Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep. &c., &c. + +Count Gubernatis, in his "Usi Natalizj," quotes a popular Spanish +lullaby, addressed to any ordinary child, but having reference to the +Holy Babe: + + The Baby Child of Mary, + Now cradle He has none; + His father is a carpenter, + And he shall make Him one. + + The lady good St Anna, + The lord St Joachim, + They rock the Baby's cradle, + That sleep may come to Him. + + Then sleep thou too, my baby, + My little heart so dear; + The Virgin is beside thee, + The Son of God is near. + +When they are old enough to understand the meaning of words, children +are sure to be interested up to a certain point by these saintly +fables, but, taken as a whole, the songs of the South give us the +impression that the coming of Christmas kindles the imagination of the +Southern mother rather than that of the Southern child. On the north +side of the Alps it is otherwise; there is scarcely need to say that +in the Vaterland, Christmas is before all the children's feast. We, +who have borrowed many of the German yule-tide customs, have left out +the "Christkind;" and it is well that we have done so. Transplanted +to foreign soil, that poetic piece of extra-belief would have become a +mockery. As soon try to naturalise Kolyada, the Sclavonic white-robed +New-year girl. The Christkind in His mythical attributes is nearer to +Kolyada than to the Italian Bambinello. He belongs to the people, not +to the Church. He is not swathed in jewelled swaddling clothes; His +limbs are free, and He has wings that carry Him wheresoever good +children abide. There is about Him all the dreamy charm of lands where +twilight is long and shade and shine intermingle softly, and where the +earth's wintry winding-sheet is more beautiful than her April bride +gown. The most popular of German lullabies is a truly Teutonic mixture +of piety, wonder-lore, and homeliness. Wagner has introduced the +music to which it is sung into his "Siegfried-Idyl." I have to thank a +Heidelberg friend for the text: + + Sleep, baby, sleep: + Your father tends the sheep; + Your mother shakes the branches small, + Whence happy dreams in showers fall: + Sleep, baby, sleep. + + Sleep, baby, sleep: + The sky is full of sheep; + The stars the lambs of heaven are, + For whom the shepherd moon doth care: + Sleep, baby, sleep. + + Sleep, baby, sleep: + The Christ Child owns a sheep; + He is Himself the Lamb of God; + The world to save, to death He trod: + Sleep, baby, sleep. + + Sleep, baby, sleep: + I'll give you then a sheep + With pretty bells, and you shall play + And frolic with him all the day: + Sleep, baby, sleep. + + Sleep, baby, sleep: + And do not bleat like sheep, + Or else the shepherd's dog will bite + My naughty, little, crying spright: + Sleep, baby, sleep. + + Sleep, baby, sleep: + Begone, and watch the sheep, + You naughty little dog! Begone, + And do not wake my little one: + Sleep, baby, sleep. + +In Denmark children are sung to sleep with a cradle hymn which is +believed (so I am informed by a youthful correspondent) to be "very +old." It has seven stanzas, of which the first runs, "Sleep sweetly, +little child; lie quiet and still; as sweetly sleep as the bird in the +wood, as the flowers in the meadow. God the Father has said, +'Angels stand on watch where mine, the little ones, are in bed.'" A +correspondent at Warsaw (still more youthful) sends me the even-song +of Polish children: + + The stars shine forth from the blue sky; + How great and wondrous is God's might; + Shine, stars, through all eternity, + His witness in the night. + + O Lord, Thy tired children keep: + Keep us who know and feel Thy might; + Turn Thine eye on us as we sleep, + And give us all good-night. + + Shine, stars, God's sentinels on high, + Proclaimers of His power and might; + May all things evil from us fly: + O stars, good-night, good-night! + +Is this "Dobra Noc" of strictly popular origin? From internal evidence +I should say that it is not. It seems, however, to be extremely +popular in the ordinary sense of the word. Before me lie two or three +settings of it by Polish musicians. + +The Italians call lullabies _ninne-nanne_, a term used by Dante when +he makes Forese predict the ills which are to overtake the dames of +Florence: + + E se l'anteveder qui non m' inganna, + Prima fien triste che le guance impeli + Colui che mo si consola con _nanna_. + +Some etymologists have sought to connect "nanna" with _neniæ_ or +[Greek: nênitos], but its most apparent relationship is with [Greek: +nannarismata], the modern Greek name for cradle songs, which is +derived from a root signifying the singing of a child to sleep. +The _ninne-nanne_ of the various Italian provinces are to be found +scattered here and there through volumes of folk poesy, and no attempt +has yet been made to collate and compare them. Signor Dal Medico did +indeed publish, some ten years ago, a separate collection of Venetian +nursery rhymes, but his initiative has not been followed up. The +difficulty I had in obtaining the little work just mentioned is +characteristic of the way in which Italian printed matter vanishes +out of all being; instead of passing into the obscure but secure limbo +into which much of English literature enters, it attains nothing +short of Nirv[=a]na--a happy state of non-existence. The inquiries of +several Italian book-sellers led to no other conclusion than that the +book in question was not to be had for love or money; and most likely +I should still have been waiting for it were it not for the courtesy +of the Baron Giovanni di Sardagna, who, on hearing that it was wanted +by a student of folk-lore, borrowed from the author the only copy in +his possession and made therefrom a verbatim transcript. The following +is one of Signor Dal Medico's lullabies: + + Hush! lulla, lullaby! So mother sings; + For hearken, 'tis the midnight bell that rings. + But, darling, not thy mother's bell is this: + St Lucy's priests it calls to prayer, I wis. + St Lucy gave thee eyes--a matchless pair-- + And gave the Magdalen her golden hair; + Thy cheeks their hue from heaven's angels have; + Her little loving mouth St Martha gave. + Love's mouth, sweet mouth, that Florence hath for home, + Now tell me where love springs, and how doth come?... + With music and with song doth love arise, + And then its end it hath in tears and sighs. + +The question and answer as to the beginning and end of love run +through all the songs of Italy, and in nearly every case the reply +proceeds from Florence. The personality of the answerer changes: +sometimes it is a little wild bird; on one occasion it is a preacher. +And the idea has been suggested that the last is the original form, +and that the Preacher of Florence who preaches against love is none +other than Jeronimo Savonarola. + +In an Istriot variant of the above song, "Santa Luceîa" is spoken of +as the Madonna of the eyes; "Santa Puluonia" as the Madonna of the +teeth: we hear also something of the Magdalene's old shoes and of the +white lilies she bears in her hands. It is not always quite clear +upon what principle the folk-poet shapes his descriptions of religious +personages; if the gifts and belongings he attributes to them are +at times purely conventional, at others they seem to rest on no +authority, legendary or historic. Most likely his ideas as to +the personal appearance of such or such a saint are formed by the +paintings in the church where he is accustomed to go to mass; it +is probable, too, that he is fond of talking of the patrons of his +village or of the next village, whose names are associated with the +_feste_, which as long as he can recollect have constituted the great +annual events of his life. But two or three saints have a popularity +independent of local circumstance. One of these is Lucy, whom the +people celebrate with equal enthusiasm from her native Syracuse to the +port of Pola. Perhaps the maiden patroness of the blessed faculty of +vision has come to be thought of as a sort of gracious embodiment +of that which her name signifies: of the sweet light which to the +southerner is not a mere helpmate in the performance of daily tasks, +but a providential luxury. Concerning the earthly career of their +favourite, her peasant votaries have vague notions: once when a +French traveller in the Apennines suggested that St Januarius might be +jealous of her praises, he received the answer, "_Ma che, excellenza_, +St Lucy was St Januarius' wife!" + +In Greece we find other saints invoked over the baby's cradle. The +Greek of modern times has his face, his mind, his heart, set in an +undeviating eastward position. To holy wisdom and to Marina, the +Alexandrian martyr, the Greek mother confides her cradled darling: + + Put him to bed, St Marina; send him to sleep, St Sophia! Take + him out abroad that he may see how the trees flower and how + the birds sing; then come back and bring him with you, that + his father may not ask for him, may not beat his servants, + that his mother may not seek him in vain, for she would weep + and fall sick, and her milk would turn bitter. + +At Gessopalena, in the province of Chieti (Abruzzo Citeriore) there +would seem to be much faith in numbers. Luke and Andrew, Michael and +Joseph, Hyacinth and Matthew are called in, and as if these were not +enough to nurse one baby, a summons is sent to _Sant Giusaffat_, who, +as is well known, is neither more nor less than Buddha introduced into +the Catholic calendar. + +Another of Signor Dal Medico's _ninne-nanne_ presents several points +of interest: + + O Sleep, O Sleep, O thou beguiler, Sleep, + Beguile this child, and in beguilement keep, + Keep him three hours, and keep him moments three; + Until I call beguile this child for me. + And when I call I'll call:--My root, my heart, + The people say my only wealth thou art. + Thou art my only wealth; I tell thee so. + Now, bit by bit, this boy to sleep will go; + He falls and falls to sleeping bit by bit, + Like the green wood what time the fire is lit, + Like to green wood that never flame can dart, + Heart of thy mother, of thy father heart! + Like to green wood, that never flame can shoot. + Sleep thou, my cradled hope, sleep thou, my root, + My cradled hope, my spirit's strength and stay; + Mother, who bore thee, wears her life away; + Her life she wears away, and all day long + She goes a-singing to her child this song. + +Now, in the first place, the comparison of the child's gradual falling +asleep with the slow ignition of fresh-cut wood is the common property +of all the populations whose ethnical centre of gravity lies in +Venice. I have seen an Istriot version of it, and I heard it sung by a +countrywoman at San Martino di Castrozza in the Trentino; so that, at +all event, _Italia redenta_ and _irredenta_ has a community of song. +The second thing that calls for remark is the direct invocation +of sleep. A distinct little group of cradle ditties displays this +characteristic. "Come, sleep," cries the Grecian mother, "come, sleep, +take him away; come sleep, and make him slumber. Carry him to the +vineyard of the Aga, to the gardens of the Aga. The Aga will give +him grapes; his wife, roses; his servant, pancakes." A second Greek +lullaby must have sprung from a luxuriant imagination. It comes from +Schio: + + Sleep, carry off my son, o'er whom three sentinels do watch, + Three sentinels, three warders brave, three mates you cannot match. + These guards: the sun upon the hill, the eagle on the plain, + And Boreas, whose chilly blasts do hurry o'er the main. + --The sun went down into the west, the eagle sank to sleep, + Chill Boreas to his mother sped across the briny deep. + "My son, where were you yesterday? Where on the former night? + Or with the moon or with the stars did you contend in fight? + Or with Orion did you strive--though him I deem a friend?" + "Nor with the stars, nor with the moon, did I in strife contend, + Nor with Orion did I fight, whom for your friend I hold, + But guarded in a silver cot a child as bright as gold." + +The Greeks have a curious way of looking at sleep: they seem absorbed +in the thought of what dreams may come--if indeed the word dream +rightly describes their conception of that which happens to the soul +while the body takes its rest--if they do not rather cling to some +vague notion of a real severance between matter and spirit during +sleep. + +The mothers of La Bresse (near Lyons) invoke sleep under the name of +"le souin-souin." I wish I could give here the sweet, inedited melody +which accompanies these lines: + + Le poupon voudrait bien domir; + Le souin-souin ne veut pas venir. + Souin-souin, vené, vené, vené; + Souin-souin, vené, vené, donc! + +The Chippewaya Indians were in the habit of personifying sleep as an +immense insect called Weeng, which someone once saw at the top of a +tree engaged in making a buzzing noise with its wings. Weeng produced +sleep by sending fairies, who beat the foreheads of tired mortals with +very small clubs. + +Sleep acts the part of questioner in the lullaby of the Finland +peasant woman, who sings to her child in its bark cradle: "Sleep, +little field bird; sleep sweetly, pretty redbreast. God will wake thee +when it is time. Sleep is at the door, and says to me, 'Is not there +a sweet child here who fain would sleep? a young child wrapped +in swaddling clothes, a fair child resting beneath his woollen +coverlet?'" A questioning sleep makes his appearance likewise in a +Sicilian _ninna_:-- + + My little son, I wish you well, your mother's comfort when in grief. + My pretty boy, what can I do? Will you not give one hour's relief? + Sleep has just past, and me he asked if this my son in slumber lay. + Close, close your little eyes, my child; send your sweet breath far + leagues away. + You are the fount of rose water; you are with every beauty fraught. + Sleep, darling son, my pretty one, my golden button richly wrought. + +A vein of tender reproach is sprung in that inquiry, "Ca n' ura ri +riposu 'un vuo rari?" The mother appeals to the better feeling, to +the Christian charity as it were, of the small but implacable tyrant. +Another time she waxes yet more eloquent. "Son, my comfort, I am not +happy. There are women who laugh and enjoy themselves while I chafe my +very life out. Listen to me, child; beautiful is the lullaby and all +the folk are asleep--but thou, no! My wise little son, I look about +for thy equal; nowhere do I find him. Thou art mamma's consolation. +There, do sleep just a little while." So pleads the Sicilian; her +Venetian sister tries to soften the obduracy of her infant by still +more plaintive remonstrances. "Hushaby; but if thou dost not sleep, +hear me. Thou hast robbed me of my heart and of all my sentiments. I +really do not know for what cause thou lamentest, and never will have +done lamenting." On this occasion the appeal seems to be made to some +purpose, for the song concludes, "The eyes of my joy are closing; they +open a little and then they shut. Now is my joy at peace with me and +no longer at war." So happy an issue does not always arrive. It may +happen that the perverse babe flatly refuses to listen to the mother's +voice, sing she never so sweetly. Perhaps he might have something +to say for himself could he but speak, at any rate in the matter of +mid-day slumbers. It must no doubt be rather trying to be called upon +to go straight to sleep just when the sunbeams are dancing round and +round and wildly inviting you to make your first studies in optics. +Most often the long-suffering mother, if she does not see things in +this light, acts as though she did. Her patience has no limit; her +caresses are never done; with untiring love she watches the little +wakeful, wilful culprit-- + + Chi piangendo e ridendo pargoleggia.... + +But it is not always so; there are times when she loses all patience, +and temper into the bargain. Such a contingency is only too faithfully +reflected in a Sicilian _ninna_ which ends with the utterance of a +horrible wish that Doctor Death would come and quiet the recalcitrant +baby once for all. I ought to add that this same murderous lullaby is +nevertheless brimful of protestations of affection and compliments; +the child is told that his eyes are the finest imaginable, his cheeks +two roses, his countenance like the moon's. The amount of incense +which the Sicilian mother burns before her offspring would suffice +to fill any number of cathedrals. Every moment she breaks forth into +words such as, "Hush! child of my breath, bunch of jasmine, handful of +oranges and lemons; go to sleep, my son, my beauty: I have got to take +thy portrait." It has been remarked that a person who resembled an +orange would scarcely be very attractive, whence it is inferred that +the comparison came into fashion at the date when the orange tree was +first introduced into Sicily and when its fruit was esteemed a rare +novelty. A little girl is described as a spray of lilies and a bouquet +of roses. A little boy is assured that his mother prefers him to gold +or fine silver. If she lost him where would she find a beloved son +like to him? A child dropped out of heaven, a laurel garland, one +under whose feet spring up flowers? Here is a string of blandishments +prettily wound up in a prayer: + + Hush, my little round-faced daughter; thou art like the stormy sea. + Daughter mine of finest amber, godmother sends sleep to thee. + Fair thy name, and he who gave it was a gallant gentleman. + Mirror of my soul, I marvel when thy loveliness I scan. + Flame of love, be good. I love thee better far than life I love. + Now my child sleeps. Mother Mary, look upon her from above. + +The form taken by parental flattery shows the tastes of nations and of +individuals. The other day a young and successful English artist was +heard to exclaim with profound conviction, whilst contemplating his +son and heir, twenty-four hours old, "There is a great deal of _tone_ +about that baby!" + +The Hungarian nurse tells her charge that his cot must be of rosewood +and his swaddling clothes of rainbow threads spun by angels. The +evening breeze is to rock him, the kiss of the falling star to awake +him; she would have the breath of the lily touch him gently, and the +butterflies fan him with their brilliant wings. Like the Sicilian, the +Magyar has an innate love of splendour. + +Corsica has a _ninna-nanna_ into which the whole genius of its people +seems to have passed. The village, _fêtes_, with dancing and music, +the flocks and herds and sheep-dogs, even the mountains, stars, and +sea, and the perfumed air off the _macchi_, come back to the traveller +in that island as he reads-- + + Hushaby, my darling boy; + Hushaby, my hope and joy. + You're my little ship so brave + Sailing boldly o'er the wave; + One that tempests doth not fear, + Nor the winds that blow from high. + Sleep awhile, my baby dear; + Sleep, my child, and hushaby. + + Gold and pearls my vessel lade, + Silk and cloth the cargo be, + All the sails are of brocade + Coming from beyond the sea; + And the helm of finest gold, + Made a wonder to behold. + Fast awhile in slumber lie; + Sleep, my child, and hushaby. + + After you were born full soon + You were christened all aright; + Godmother she was the moon, + Godfather the sun so bright; + All the stars in heaven told + Wore their necklaces of gold. + Fast awhile in slumber lie; + Sleep, my child, and hushaby. + + Pure and balmy was the air, + Lustrous all the heavens were; + And the seven planets shed + All their virtues on your head; + And the shepherds made a feast + Lasting for a week at least. + Fast awhile in slumber lie; + Sleep, my child, and hushaby. + + Nought was heard but minstrelsy, + Nought but dancing met the eye, + In Cassoni's vale and wood + And in all the neighbourhood; + Hawk and Blacklip, stanch and true, + Feasted in their fashion too. + Fast awhile in slumber lie; + Sleep, my child, and hushaby. + + Older years when you attain, + You will roam o'er field and plain; + Meadows will with flowers be gay, + And with oil the fountains play, + And the salt and bitter sea + Into balsam changèd be. + Fast awhile in slumber lie; + Sleep, my child, and hushaby. + + And these mountains, wild and steep, + Will be crowded o'er with sheep, + And the wild goat and the deer + Will be tame and void of fear; + Vulture, fox, and beast of prey, + From these bounds shall flee away. + Fast awhile in slumber lie; + Sleep, my child, and hushaby. + + You are savory, sweetly blowing, + You are thyme, of incense smelling, + Upon Mount Basella growing, + Upon Mount Cassoni dwelling; + You the hyacinth of the rocks + Which is pasture for the flocks. + Fast awhile in slumber lie; + Sleep, my child, and hushaby. + +At the sight of a new-born babe the Corsican involuntarily sets to +work making auguries. The mountain shepherds place great faith in +divination based on the examination of the shoulder-blades of animals: +according to the local tradition the famous prophecy of the greatness +of Napoleon was drawn up after this method. The nomad tribes of +Central Asia search the future in precisely the same way. Corsican +lullabies are often prophetical. An old woman predicts a strange sort +of millennium, to begin with the coming of age of her grandson: + + "There grew a boy in Palneca of Pumonti, and his dear + grandmother was always rocking his cradle, always wishing him + this destiny:-- + + "Sleep, O little one, thy grandmother's joy and gladness, for + I have to prepare the supper for thy dear little father, and + thy elder brothers, and I have to make their clothes. + + "When thou art older, thou wilt traverse the plains, the grass + will turn to flowers, the sea-water will become sweet balm. + + "We will make thee a jacket edged with red and turned up in + points, and a little peaked hat, trimmed with gold braid. + + "When thou art bigger, thou wilt carry arms; neither soldier + nor gendarme will frighten thee, and if thou art driven up + into a corner, thou wilt make a famous bandit. + + "Never did woman of our race pass thirteen years unwed, for + when an impertinent fellow dared so much as look at her, he + escaped not two weeks unless he gave her the ring. + + "But that scoundrel of Morando surprised the kinsfolk, + arrested them all in one day, and wrought their ruin. And the + thieves of Palneca played the spy. + + "Fifteen men were hung, all in the market-place: men of great + worth, the flower of our race. Perhaps it will be thou, O + dearest! who shall accomplish the vendetta!" + +An unexpected yet logical development leads from the peaceful +household cares, the joyous images of the familiar song, the playful +picture of the baby boy in jacket and pointed hat, to a terrible +recollection of deeds of shame and blood, long past, and perhaps +half-forgotten by the rest of the family, but at which the old dame's +breast still burns as she rocks the sleeping babe on whom is fixed her +last passionate hope of vengeance fulfilled. + +In the mountain villages scattered about the borders of the vast Sila +forest, Calabrian mothers whisper to their babes, "brigantiellu miu, +brigantiellu della mamma." They tell the little ones gathered round +their knees legends of Fra Diavolo and of Talarico, just as Sardinian +mothers tell the legend of Tolu of Florinas. This last is a story +of to-day. In 1850, Giovanni Tolu married the niece of the priest's +housekeeper. The priest opposed the marriage, and soon after it had +taken place, in the absence of Tolu, he persuaded the young wife to +leave her husband's house, never to return. Tolu, meeting his enemy +in a lonely path, fired his pistol, but by some accident it did not +go off, and the priest escaped with his life. Arrest and certain +conviction, however, awaited Tolu, who preferred to take to the +woods, where he remained for thirty years, a prince among outlaws. +He protected the weak; administered a rude but wise justice to the +scattered peasants of the waste country between Sassari and the sea; +his swift horse was always ready to fly in search of their lost or +stolen cattle; his gun was the terror of the thieves who preyed upon +these poor people. In Osilo lived two families, hereditary foes, the +Stacca and the Achena. An Achena offered Tolu five hundred francs to +kill the head of the Stacca family. Tolu not only refused, he did +not rest till he had brought about a reconciliation between the two +houses. At last, in the autumn of 1880, the gendarmes, after thirty +years' failure, arrested Tolu without a struggle at a place where he +had gone to take part in a country _festa_. For two years he was kept +untried in prison. In September 1882 he was brought before the Court +of Assize at Frosinone. Not a witness could be found to testify +against him. "Tolu," they said, "è un Dio." When asked by the +President what he had to say in his defence, he replied: "I never +fired first. The carabineers hunted me like a wild beast, because a +price was set on my head, and like a wild beast I defended myself." +The jury brought in a verdict of acquittal; and if any one wishes to +make our hero's acquaintance, he has only to take ship for Sardinia +and then find the way to the village of Florinas, where he is now +peaceably living, beloved and respected by all who know him. + +The Sardinian character has old-world virtues and old-world blemishes; +if you live in the wilder districts you may deem it advisable to keep +a loaded pistol on the table at meal-time; but then you may go all +over the island without letters of introduction, sure of a hearty +welcome, and an hospitality which gives to the stranger the best +of everything that there is. If the Sardinian has an imperfect +apprehension of the sacredness of other laws, he is blindly obedient +to that of custom; when some progressive measure is proposed, he does +not argue--he says quietly: "Custu non est secundu la moda nostra." +No man sweeps the dust on antique time less than he. One of his +distinctive traits is an overweening fondness of his children; the +ever-marvellous baby is represented not only as the glory of its +mother, but also as the light even of its most distant connexions-- + + Lullaby, sweet lullaby, + You our happiness supply; + Fair your face, and sweet your ways, + You, your mother's pride and praise. + As the coral, rare and bright, + In your life does father live; + You, of all the dear delight, + All around you pleasure give. + + All your ways, my pretty boy, + Of your parents are the joy; + You were born for good alone, + Sunshine of the family! + Wise, and kind to every one. + Light of every kinsman's eye; + Light of all who hither come, + And the gladness of our home. + Lullaby, sweet lullaby. + +On the northern shore the people speak a tongue akin to that of the +neighbouring isle, and the dialect of the south is semi-Spanish; but +in the midland Logudoro the old Sard speech is spoken much as it is +known to have been spoken a thousand years ago. It is simply a rustic +Latin. Canon Spano's loving rather than critical labours have left +Sardinia a fine field for some future folk-lore collector. The +Sardinian is short in speech, copious in song. I asked a lad, just +returned to Venetia from working in Sardinian quarries, if the people +there had many songs? "Oh! tanti!" he answered, with a gesture more +expressive than the words. He had brought back more than a touch of +that malarious fever which is the scourge of the island and a blight +upon all efforts to develop its rich resources. A Sardinian friend +tells me that the Sard poet often shows a complete contempt for +metrical rules; his poesy is apt to become a rhythmic chant of which +the words and music cannot be dissevered. But the Logudorian +lullabies are regular in form, their distinguishing feature being an +interjection with an almost classical ring that replaces the _fa la +nanna_ of Italy-- + + Oh! ninna and anninia! + Sleep, baby boy; + Oh! ninna and anninia! + God give thee joy. + Oh! ninna and anninia! + Sweet joy be thine; + Oh! ninna and anninia! + Sleep, brother mine. + + Sleep, and do not cry, + Pretty, pretty one, + Apple of mine eye, + Danger there is none; + Sleep, for I am by, + Mother's darling son. + + Oh! ninna and anninia! + Sleep, baby boy; + Oh! ninna and anninia! + God give thee joy. + Oh! ninna and anninia! + Sweet joy be thine; + Oh! ninna and anninia! + Sleep, brother mine. + +The singer is the little mother-sister: the child who, while the +mother works in the fields or goes to market, is left in charge of the +last-come member of the family, and is bound to console it as best +she may, for the absence of its natural guardian. The baby is to her +somewhat of a doll, just as to the children of the rich the doll is +somewhat of a baby. She may be met without going far afield; anyone +who has lived near an English village must know the curly-headed +little girl who sits on the cottage door-step or among the meadow +buttercups, her arms stretched at full length, round a soft, +black-eyed creature, small indeed, yet not much smaller than herself. +This, she solemnly informs you, is her baby. Not quite so often can +she be seen now as before the passing of the Education Act, prior to +which all truants fell back on the triumphant excuse, "I can't go +to school because I have to mind my baby," some neighbouring infant +brother, cousin, nephew, being producible at a moment's notice in +support of the assertion. In those days the mere sight of a baby +filled persons interested in the promotion of public instruction with +wrath and suspicion. Yet womanhood would lose a sweet and sympathetic +phase were the little mother-sister to wholly disappear. The songs +of the child-nurse are of the slenderest kind; the tether of her +imagination has not been cut by hope or memory. As a rule she dwells +upon the important fact that mother will soon be here, and when she +has said that, she has not much more to say. So it is in an Istriot +song: "This is a child who is always crying; be quiet, my soul, for +mother is coming back; she will bring thee nice milk, and then she +will put thee in the crib to hushaby." A Tuscan correspondent sends +me a sister-rhyme which is introduced by a pretty description of +the grave-eyed little maiden, of twelve or thirteen years perhaps, +responsible almost to sadness, who leans down her face over the baby +brother she is rocking in the cradle; and when he stirs and begins to +cry, sings softly the oft-told tale of how the dear mamma will come +quickly and press him lovingly to her breast: + + Che fa mai col volto chino, + Quella tacita fanciulla? + Sta vegliando il fratellino, + Adagiato nella culla. + + Ed il pargolo se desta, + E il meschino prorompe in pianto, + La bambina, mesta, mesta, + Vuol chetarlo col suo canto: + + Bambolino mio, riposa, + Presto mamma tornerà; + Cara mamma che amorosa + Al suo sen ti stringerà. + +The little French girl turns her thoughts to the hot milk and +chocolate that are being prepared, and of which she no doubt expects +to have a share:-- + + Fais dodo, Colin, mon p'tit frère, + Fais dodo, t'auras du lolo. + Le papa est en haut, qui fait le lolo, + Le maman est en bas, qui fait le colo; + Fais dodo, Colin, mon p'tit frère + Fais dodo. + +In enumerating the rewards for infantine virtue--which is sleep--I +must not forget the celebrated hare's skin to be presented to Baby +Bunting, and the "little fishy" that the English father, set to be +nurse _ad interim_, promises his "babby" when the ship comes in; nor +should I pass over the hopes raised in an inedited cradle song of +French Flanders, which opens, like the Tuscan lullaby, with a short +narration: + + Un jour un' pauv' dentillière + En amicliton ch'un petiot garchun, + Qui d'puis le matin n'fesions que blaìre, + Voulait l'endormir par une canchun. + +In this barbarous _patios_, the poor lace-maker tells her "p'tit +pocchin" (little chick) that to-morrow he shall have a cake made of +honey, spices, and rye flour; that he shall be dressed in his best +clothes "com' un bieau milord;" and that at "la Ducasse," a local +_fête_, she will buy him a laughable Polchinello and a bird-organ +playing the tune of the sugar-loaf hat. Toys are also promised in a +Japanese lullaby, which the kindness of the late author of "Child-life +in Japan" has enabled me to give in the original: + + Nén-ne ko y[=o]--nén-né ko y[=o] + Nén-né no mori wa--doko ye yuta + Ano yama koyété--sato ye yuta + Sato no miyagé ni--nani morota + Tén-tén taiko ni--sh[=o] no fuyé + Oki-agari koboshima--ìnu hari-ko. + +Signifying in English: + + Lullaby, baby, lullaby, baby + Baby's nursey, where has she gone + Over those mountains she's gone to her village; + And from her village, what will she bring? + A tum-tum drum, and a bamboo flute, + A "daruma" (which will never turn over) and a paper dog. + +Scope is allowed for unlimited extension, as the singer can go on +mentioning any number of toys. The _Daruma_ is what English children +call a tumbler; a figure weighted at the bottom, so that turn it how +you will, it always regains its equilibrium. + +More ethereal delights than chocolate, hare's skins, bird-organs, or +even paper dogs (though these last sound irresistibly seductive), form +the subject of a beautiful little Greek song of consolation: "Lullaby, +lullaby, thy mother is coming back from the laurels by the river, from +the sweet banks she will bring thee flowers; all sorts of flowers, +roses, and scented pinks." When she does come back, the Greek mother +makes such promises as eclipse all the rest: "Sleep, my child, and +I will give thee Alexandria for thy sugar, Cairo for thy rice, and +Constantinople, there to reign three years!" Those who see deep +meaning in childish things will look with interest at the young Greek +woman, who sits vaguely dreaming of empire while she rocks her babe. +The song is particularly popular in Cyprus; the English residents +there must be familiar with the melody--an air constructed on the +Oriental scale, and only the other day set on paper. The few bars of +music are like a sigh of passionate longing. + +From reward to punishment is but a step, and next in order to the +songs that refer to the recompense of good, sleepy children, must be +placed those hinting at the serious consequences which will be +the result of unyielding wakefulness. It must be confessed that +retribution does not always assume a very awful form; in fact, in +one German rhyme, it comes under so gracious a disguise, that a child +might almost lie awake on purpose to look out for it: + + Sleep, baby, sleep, + I can see two little sheep; + One is black and one is white, + And, if you do not sleep to-night, + First the black and then the white + Will give your little toes a bite. + +The translation is by "Hans Breitmann." + +In the threatening style of lullaby, the bogey plays a considerable +part. A history of the bogeys of all nations would be an instructive +book. The hero of one people is the bogey of another. Wellington and +Napoleon (or rather "Boney") served to scare naughty babies long after +the latter, at least, was laid to rest. French children still have +songs about "le Prince Noir," and the nurses sang during the siege of +Paris: + + As-tu vu Bismarck + A la porte de Chatillon? + Il lance les obus + Sur le Panthéon. + +The Moor is the nursery terror of many parts of Southern Europe; +not, however, it would seem of Sicily--a possible tribute to the +enlightened rule of the Kalifs. The Greeks do not enjoy a like +immunity: Signor Avolio mentions, in his "Canti popolari di Noto," +that besides saying "the wolf is coming," it is common for mothers +to frighten their little ones with, "Zìttiti, ca viènunu i Riece; Nu +sciri ca 'ncianu ci sù i Rieci" ("Hush, for the Greeks are coming: +don't go outside for the Greeks are there.") Noto was the centre of +the district where the ancient Sikeli made their last stand against +Greek supremacy: a coincidence that opens the way to bold speculation, +though the originals of the bogey Greeks may have been only pirates of +times far less remote. + +In Germany the same person distributes rewards and punishments: St +Nicholas in the Rhenish provinces, Knecht Ruprecht in Northern and +Central Germany, Julklapp in Pomerania. On Christmas eve, some one +cries out "Julklapp!" from behind a door, and throws the gift into the +room with the child's name pinned upon it. Even the gentle St Lucy, +the Santa Claus of Lombardy, withholds her cakes from erring babes, +and little Tuscans stand a good deal in awe of their friend the +Befana; delightful as are the treasures she puts in their shoes when +satisfied with their behaviour, she is credited with an unpleasantly +sharp eye for youthful transgressions. She has a relative in Japan of +the name of Hotii. Once upon a time Hotii, who belongs to the sterner +sex, lived on earth in the garb of a priest. His birthland was China, +and he had the happy fame of being extremely kind to children. At +present he walks about Japan with a big sack full of good things +for young people, but the eyes with which the back of his head is +furnished, enable him to see in a second if any child misconducts +itself. Of more dubious antecedents is another patron of the children +of Japan, Kishi Mojin, the mother of the child-demons. Once Kishi +Mojin had the depraved habit of stealing any young child she could lay +hands on and eating it. In spite of this, she was sincerely attached +to her own family, which numbered one thousand, and when the exalted +Amida Niorai hid one of its members to punish her for her cruel +practices, she grieved bitterly. Finally the child was given back on +condition that Kishi Mojin would never more devour her neighbours' +infants: she was advised to eat the fruit of the pomegranate whenever +she had a craving for unnatural food. Apparently she took the advice +and kept the compact, as she is honoured on the 28th day of every +month, and little children are taught to solicit her protection. The +kindness shown to children both in Japan and China is well known; +in China one baby is said to be of more service in insuring a safe +journey than an armed escort. + +"El coco," a Spanish bogey, figures in a sleep-song from Malaga: +"Sleep, little child, sleep, my soul; sleep, little star of the +morning. My child sleeps with eyes open like the hares. Little baby +girl, who has beaten thee that thine eyes look as if they had been +crying? Poor little girl! who has made thy face red? The rose on the +rose-tree is going to sleep, and to sleep goes my child, for already +it is late. Sleep little daughter for the _coco_ comes." + +The folk-poet in Spain reaps the advantage of a recognised freedom of +versification; with the great stress laid upon the vowels, a consonant +more or less counts for nothing: + + A dormir va la rosa + De los rosales; + A dormir va mi niña + Porque ya es tarde. + +All folk-poets, and notably the English, have recourse to an +occasional assonant, but the Spaniard can trust altogether to such. +Verse-making is thus made easy, provided ideas do not fail, and up to +to-day, they have not failed the Spanish peasant. He has not, like +the Italian, begun to leave off composing songs. My correspondent at +Malaga writes that at that place improvisation seems innate in the +people: they go before a house and sing the commonest thing they wish +to express. Love and hate they also turn into songs, to be rehearsed +under the window of the individual loved or hated. There is even an +old woman now living in Malaga who rhymes in Latin with extraordinary +facility. To the present section falls one other lullaby--coo-aby, +perhaps I ought to say, since the Spanish _arrullo_ means the cooing +of doves as well as the lulling of children. It is quoted by Count +Gubernatis: + + Isabellita, do not pine + Because the flowers fade away; + If flowers hasten to decay + Weep not, Isabellita mine. + + Little one, now close thine eyes, + Hark, the footsteps of the Moor! + And she asks from door to door, + Who may be the child who cries? + + When I was as small as thou + And within my cradle lying, + Angels came about me flying + And they kissed me on my brow. + + Sleep, then, little baby, sleep: + Sleep, nor cry again to-night, + Lest the angels take to flight + So as not to see thee weep. + +"The Moor" is in this instance a benignant kind of bogey, not far +removed from harmless "wee Willie Winkie" who runs upstairs and +downstairs in his nightgown: + + Tapping at the window, + Crying at the lock, + "Are the babes in their beds? + For it's now ten o'clock." + +These myths have some analogy with a being known as "La Dormette" who +frequents the neighbourhood of Poitou. She is a good old woman who +throws sand and sleep on children's eyes, and is hailed with the +words: + + Passez la Dormette, + Passez par chez nous! + Endormir gars et fillettes + La nuit et le jou. + +Now and then we hear of an angel who passes by at nightfall; it is not +clear what may be his mission, but he is plainly too much occupied to +linger with his fellow seraphs, who have nothing to do but to kiss +the babe in its sleep. A little French song speaks of this journeying +angel: + + Il est tard, l'ange a passé, + Le jour a déja baissé; + Et l'on n'entend pour tout bruit + Que le ruisseau qui s'enfuit. + Endors toi, + Mon fils! c'est moi. + Il est tard et ton ami, + L'oiseau blue, s'est endormi. + +In Calabria, when a butterfly flits around a baby's cradle, it is +believed to be either an angel or a baby's soul. + +The pendulum of good and evil is set swinging from the moment that the +infant draws its first breath. Angelical visitation has its complement +in demonial influence; it is even difficult to resist the conclusion +that the ministers of light are frequently outnumbered by the powers +of darkness. In most Christian lands the unbaptised child is given +over entirely to the latter. Sicilian women are loth to kiss a child +before its christening, because they consider it a pagan or a Turk. In +East Tyrol and Styria, persons who take a child to be baptised say on +their return--"A Jew we took away, a Christian we bring back." Some +Tyrolese mothers will not give any food to their babies till the rite +has been performed. The unbaptised Greek is thought to be simply +a small demon, and is called by no other designation than [Greek: +srakos] if a boy, and [Greek: srakoula] if a girl. Once when a +christening was unavoidably delayed, the parents got so accustomed to +calling their little girl by the snake name, that they continued doing +so even after she had been presented with one less equivocal. +Dead unchristened babes float about on the wind; in Tyrol they are +marshalled along by Berchte, the wife of Pontius Pilate; in Scotland +they may be heard moaning on calm nights. The state to which their +baby souls are relegated, is probably a lingering recollection of +that into which, in pagan days, all innocent spirits were conceived +to pass: an explanation that has also the merit of being as little +offensive as any that can be offered. There is naturally a general +wish to make baptism follow as soon as possible after birth--an +end that is sometimes pursued regardless of the bodily risks it may +involve. A poor woman gave birth to a child at the mines of Vallauria; +it was a bitterly cold winter; the snow lay deep enough to efface the +mountain tracks, and all moisture froze the instant it was exposed to +the air. However, the grandmother of the new-born babe carried it off +immediately to Tenda--many miles away--for the christening rite. As +she had been heard to remark that it was a useless encumbrance, there +were some who attributed her action to other motives than religious +zeal; but the child survived the ordeal and prospered. In several +parts of the Swiss mountains a baptism, like a funeral, is an event +for the whole community. I was present at a christening in a small +village lying near the summit of the Julier Pass. The bare, little +church was crowded, and the service was performed with a reverent +carefulness contrasting sharply with the mechanical and hurried +performance of a baptism witnessed shortly before in a very different +place, the glorious baptistry at Florence. It ended with a Lutheran +hymn, sung sweetly without accompaniment, by five or six young +girls. More than half of the congregation consisted of men, whose +weather-tried faces were wet with tears, almost without exception. +I could not find out that there was anything particularly sad in the +circumstances of the case; the women certainly wore black, but then, +the rule of attending the funerals even of mere acquaintances, causes +the best dress in Switzerland to be always one suggestive of mourning. +It seemed that the pathos of the dedication of a dawning life to the +Supreme Good was sufficient to touch the hearts of these simple folk, +starved from coarser emotion. + +In Calabria it is thought unlucky to be either born or christened on +a Friday. Saturday is likewise esteemed an inauspicious day, which +points to its association with the witches' Sabbath, once the subject +of numerous superstitious beliefs throughout the southern provinces +of Italy. Not far from the battlefield near Benevento where Charles +of Anjou defeated Manfred, grew a walnut tree, which had an almost +European fame as the scene of Sabbatical orgies. People used to hang +upon its branches the figure of a two-headed viper coiled into a ring, +a symbol of incalculable antiquity. St Barbatus had the tree cut down, +but the devil raised new shoots from the root and so it was renewed. +Shreds of snake-worship may be still collected. The Calabrians hold +that the cast-off skin of a snake is an excellent thing to put under +the pillow of a sick baby. Even after their christening, children are +unfortunately most susceptible to enchantment. When a beautiful and +healthy child sickens and dies, the Irish peasant infers that the +genuine baby has been stolen by fairies, and this miserable sprite +left in its place. Two ancient antidotes have great power to +counteract the effect of spells. One is the purifying Fire. In +Scotland, as in Italy, bewitched children, within the memory of living +men, have been set to rights by contact with its salutary heat. My +relative, Count Belli of Viterbo, was "looked at" when an infant by a +_Jettatrice_, and was in consequence put by his nurse into a mild +oven for half-an-hour. One would think that the remedy was nearly as +perilous as the practice of the lake-dwellers of cutting a little hole +in their children's heads to let out the evil spirits, but in the case +mentioned it seems to have answered well. + +The other important curative agent is the purifying spittle. In +Scotland and in Greece, any one who should exclaim, "What a beautiful +child!" is expected to slightly spit upon the object of the remark, or +some misfortune will follow. Ladies in a high position at Athens have +been observed to do this quite lately. The Scotch and Greek uneasiness +about the "well-faured" is by no means confined to those peoples; the +same anxiety reappears in Madagascar; and the Arab does not like you +to praise the beauty of his horse without adding the qualifying "an +it please God." Persius gives an account of the precautions adopted +by the friends of the infant Roman: "Look here--a grandmother or +superstitious aunt has taken baby from his cradle and is charming his +forehead and his slavering lips against mischief by the joint action +of her middle finger and her purifying spittle; for she knows right +well how to check the evil eye. Then she dandles him in her arms, and +packs off the little pinched hope of the family, so far as wishing can +do it, to the domains of Licinus, or to the palace of Cr[oe]sus. 'May +he be a catch for my lord and lady's daughter! May the pretty ladies +scramble for him! May the ground he walks on turn to a rose-bed.'" +(Prof. Conington's translation.) + +One of the rare lullabies that contain allusion to enchantment is the +following Roumanian "Nani-nani": + + Lullaby, my little one, + Thou art mother's darling son; + Loving mother will defend thee, + Mother she will rock and tend thee, + Like a flower of delight, + Or an angel swathed in white. + + Sleep with mother, mother well + Knows the charm for every spell. + Thou shalt be a hero as + Our good lord, great Stephen, was, + Brave in war, and strong in hand, + To protect thy fatherland. + + Sleep, my baby, in thy bed; + God upon thee blessings shed. + Be thou dark, and be thine eyes + Bright as stars that gem the skies. + Maidens' love be thine, and sweet + Blossoms spring beneath thy feet. + +The last lines might be taken for a paraphrase of-- + + ....... puellae + Hunc rapiant: quicquid calcaverit hic, rosa fiat. + +The Three Fates have still their cult at Athens. When a child is three +days old, the mother places by its cot a little table spread with a +clean linen cloth, upon which she sets a pot of honey, sundry cakes +and fruits, her wedding ring, and a few pieces of money belonging +to her husband. In the honey are stuck three almonds. These are the +preparations for the visit of the [Greek: Moirai]. In some places the +Norns or Parcæ have got transformed into the three Maries; in others +they closely retain their original character. A perfect sample of the +mixing up of pagan and Christian lore is to be found in a Bulgarian +legend, which shows the three Fates weaving the destiny of the infant +Saviour during a momentary absence of the Virgin--the whole scene +occurring in the middle of a Balkan wood. In Sicily exists a belief +in certain strange ladies ("donni-di-fora"), who take charge of the +new-born babe, with or without permission. The Palermitan mother says +aloud, when she lifts her child out of the cradle, "'Nnome di Dio!" +("In God's name!")--but she quickly adds _sotto voce_: "Cu licenzi, +signuri miu!" ("By your leave, ladies"). + +At Noto, _Ronni-di-casa_, or house-women, take the place of the +_Donni-di-fora_. They inhabit every house in which a fire burns. If +offended by their host, they revenge themselves on the children: +the mother finds the infant whom she left asleep and tucked into the +cradle, rolling on the floor or screaming with sudden fright. When, +however, the _Ronni-di-casa_ are amiably disposed, they make the +sleeping child smile, after the fashion of angels in other parts of +the world. Should they wish to leave an unmistakable mark of their +good will, they twist a lock of the baby's hair into an inextricable +tress. In England, elves were supposed to tangle the hair during sleep +(_vide King Lear_: "Elf all my hair in knots;" and Mercutio's Mab +speech). The favour of the Sicilian house-women is not without its +drawbacks, for if by any mischance the knotted lock be cut off, +they will probably twist the child's spine out of spite. "'Ccussi lu +lassurii li Ronni-di-casa," says an inhabitant of Noto when he points +out to you a child suffering from spinal curvature. The voice is +lowered in mentioning these questionable guests, and there are +Noticiani who will use any amount of circumlocution to avoid actually +naming them. They are often called "certi signuri," as in this +characteristic lullaby: + + My love, I wish thee well; so lullaby! + Thy little eyes are like the cloudless sky, + My little lovely girl, my pretty one, + Mother will make of thee a little nun: + A sister of the Saviour's Priory + Where noble dames and ladies great there be. + Sleep, moon-faced treasure, sleep, the while I sing: + Thou hadst thy cradle from the Spanish king. + When thou hast slept, I'll love thee better still. + (Sleep to my daughter comes and goes at will + And in her slumber she is made to smile + By certain ladies whom I dare not style.) + Breath of my body, thou, my love, my care, + Thou art without a flaw, so wondrous fair. + Sleep then, thy mother's breath, sleep, sleep, and rest, + For thee my very soul forsakes my breast. + My very soul goes forth, and sore my heart: + Thou criest; words of comfort I impart. + Daughter, my flame, lie still and take repose, + Thou art a nosegay culled from off the rose. + +At Palermo, mothers dazzled their little girls with the prospect of +entering the convent of Santa Zita or Santa Chiara. In announcing the +birth of his child, a Sicilian peasant commonly says, "My wife has a +daughter-abbess." "What! has your wife a daughter old enough to be an +abbess?" has sometimes been the innocent rejoinder of a traveller from +the mainland. The Convent of the Saviour, which is the destination of +the paragon of beauty described in the above lullaby, was one of +the wealthiest, and what is still more to the point, one of the most +aristocratic religious houses in the island. To have a relation among +its members was a distinction ardently coveted by the citizens of +Noto; a town which once rejoiced in thirty-three noble families, one +loftier than the other. The number is now cut down, but according to +Signor Avolio such as remain are regarded with undiminished reverence. +There are households in which the whole conversation runs on the +_Barone_ and _Baronessa_, when not absorbed by the _Baronello_ and the +_Baronessella_. It is just possible that the same phenomenon might be +observed without going to Noto. _Tutto il mondo è paese_: a proverb +which would serve as an excellent motto for the Folk-lore Society. + +Outside Sicily the cradle-singer's ideal of felicity is rather +matrimonial than monastic. The Venetian is convinced that who never +loved before must succumb to her daughter's incomparable charms. It +seems, by-the-by, that the "fatal gift" can be praised without fear or +scruple in modern Italy; the visitors of a new-born babe ejaculate in +a chorus, "Quant' è bellino! O bimbo! Bimbino!" and Italian lullabies, +far more than any others, are one long catalogue of perfections, +one drawn-out reiteration of the boast of a Greek mother of Terra +d'Otranto: "There are children in the street, but like my boy there is +not one; there are children before the house, but like my child there +are none at all." The Sardinian who wishes to say something civil of +a baby will not do less than predict that "his fame will go round the +world." The cradle-singer of the Basilicata desires for her nursling +that he may outstrip the sun and moon in their race. It has been seen +that the Roumanian mother would have her son emulate the famous hero +of Moldavia; for her daughter she cherishes a gentler ambition: + + Sleep, my daughter, sleep an hour; + Mother's darling gilliflower. + Mother rocks thee, standing near, + She will wash thee in the clear + Waters that from fountains run, + To protect thee from the sun. + + Sleep, my darling, sleep an hour, + Grow thou as the gilliflower. + As a tear-drop be thou white, + As a willow, tall and slight; + Gentle as the ring-doves are, + And be lovely as a star! + +This _nani-nani_ calls to mind some words in a letter of Sydney +Dobell's: "A little girl-child! The very idea is the most exquisite of +poems! a child-daughter--wherein it seems to me that the spirit of all +dews and flowers and springs and tender, sweet wonders 'strikes +its being into bounds.'" "Tear drop" (_lacrimiòra_) is the poetic +Roumanian name for the lily of the valley. It may be needful to add +that gilliflower is the English name for the clove-pink; at least an +explanatory foot-note is now attached to the word in new editions of +the old poets. Exiled from the polite society of "bedding plants"--all +heads and no bodies--the "matted and clove gilliflowers" which Bacon +wished to have in his garden, must be sought for by the door of +the cottager who speaks of them fondly yet apologetically, as +"old-fashioned things." To the folk-singers of the small Italy on the +Danube and the great Italy on the Arno they are still the type of the +choicest excellence, of the most healthful grace. Even the long stalk, +which has been the flower's undoing, from a worldly point of view, +gets praised by the unsophisticated Tuscan. "See," he says, "with +how lordly an air it holds itself in the hand!" ("Guarda con quanta +signoria si tiene in mano!") + +The anguish of the Hindu dying childless has its root deeper down in +the human heart than the reason he gives for it, the foolish fear lest +his funeral rites be not properly performed. No man quite knows what +it is to die who leaves a child in the world; children are more than a +link with the future--they _are_ the future: the portion of ourselves +that belongs not to this day but to to-morrow. To them may be +transferred all the hopes sadly laid by, in our own case, as +illusions; the "to be" of their young lives can be turned into a +beautiful "arrangement in pink," even though experience has taught us +that the common lot of humanity is "an Imbroglio in Whity-brown." Most +parents do all this and much more; as lullabies would show were there +any need for the showing of it. One cradle-song, however, faces +the truth that of all sure things the surest is that sorrow and +disappointment will fall upon the children as it has fallen upon the +fathers. The song comes from Germany; the English version is by Mr C. +G. Leland: + + Sleep, little darling, an angel art thou! + Sleep, while I'm brushing the flies from your brow. + All is as silent as silent can be; + Close your blue eyes from the daylight and me. + + This is the time, love, to sleep and to play; + Later, oh later, is not like to-day, + When care and trouble and sorrow come sore + You never will sleep, love, as sound as before. + + Angels from heaven as lovely as thou + Sweep round thy bed, love, and smile on thee now; + Later, oh later, they'll come as to-day, + But only to wipe all the tear-drops away. + + Sleep, little darling, while night's coming round, + Mother will still by her baby be found; + If it be early, or if it be late, + Still by her baby she'll watch and she'll wait. + +The sad truth is there, but with what tenderness is it not hedged +about! These Teutonic angels are worth more than the too sensitive +little angels of Spain who fly away at the sight of tears. And the +last verse conveys a second truth, as consoling as the first is sad; +pass what must, change what may, the mother's love will not change or +pass; its healing presence will remain till death; who knows? perhaps +after. Signor Salomone-Marino records the cry of one, who out of the +depths blesses the haven of maternal love: + + Mamma, Mammuzza mia, vu' siti l'arma, + Lu mè rifugiu nni la sorti orrenna, + Vui siti la culonna e la giurlanna, + Lu celu chi vi guardi e vi mantegna! + +The soul that directs and inspires, the refuge that shelters, the +column that supports, the garland that crowns--such language would +not be natural in the mouth of an English labourer. An Englishman who +feels deeply is almost bound to hold his tongue; but the poor Sicilian +can so express himself in perfect naturalness and simplicity. + +There is a kind of sleep-song that has only the form in common with +the rose-coloured fiction that makes the bulk of cradle literature. It +is the song of the mother who lulls her child with the overflow of +her own troubled heart. The child may be the very cause of her sorest +perplexity: yet from it alone she gains the courage to live, from it +alone she learns a lesson of duty: + + "The babe I carry on my arm, + He saves for me my precious soul." + +A Corsican mother says to the infant at her breast, "Thou art my +guardian angel!"--which is the same thought spoken in another way. + +The most lovely of all sad lullabies is that written much more than +two thousand years ago by Simonides of Ceos. Acrisius, king of Argos, +was informed by an oracle that he would be killed by the son of his +daughter Danaë, who was therefore shut up in a tower, where Zeus +visited her in the form of a shower of gold. Afterwards, when she gave +birth to Perseus, Acrisius ordered mother and child to be exposed in +a wicker chest or coffin on the open sea. This is the story which +Simonides took as the subject of his poem: + + Whilst the wind blew and rattled on the decorated ark, and the + troubled deep tossed as though in terror--her own fair cheek + also not unwet--around Perseus Danaë threw her arms, and + cried: "O how grievous, my child, is my trouble; yet thou + sleepest, and with tranquil heart slumberest within this + joyless house, beneath the brazen-barred, black-gleaming, + musky heavens. Ah! little reckest thou, beloved object, of the + howling of the tempest, nor of the brine wetting thy delicate + hair, as there thou liest, clad in thy little crimson mantle! + But even were this dire pass dreadful also to thee, yet lend + thy soft ear to my words: Sleep on, my babe, I say; sleep on, + I charge thee; nay, let the wild waters sleep, and sleep the + immeasurable woe. Let me, too, see some change of will on thy + part, Zeus, father! or if the speech be deemed too venturous, + then, for thy child's sake, I pray thee pardon." + +This is not a folk-song, but it has a prescriptive right to a place +among lullabies. + +Passing over the beautiful Widow's Song, quoted in a former essay, we +come to some Basque lines, which bring before us the blank and vulgar +ugliness of modern misery with a realism that would please M. Zola: + + Hush, poor child, hush thee to sleep; + (See him lying in slumber deep!) + Thou first, then following I, + We will hush and hushaby. + + Thy bad father is at the inn; + Oh! the shame of it, and the sin! + Home at midnight he will fare, + Drunk with strong wine of Navarre. + +After each verse the singer repeats again and again: _Lo lo, lo lo_, +on three lingering notes that have the plaintive monotony of the +chiming of bells where there are but three in the belfry. + +Almost as dismal as the Basque ditty is the English nursery rhyme: + + Bye, O my baby! + When I was a lady + O then my poor baby didn't cry; + But my baby is weeping + For want of good keeping; + Oh! I fear my poor baby will die! + +--which may have been composed to fit in with some particular story, +as was the tearful little song occurring in the ballad of Childe +Waters: + + She said: Lullabye, mine own dear child, + Lullabye, my child so dear; + I would thy father were a king, + Thy mother laid on a bier. + +One feels glad that that story ends happily in a "churching and +bridal" that take place upon the same day. + +I have the copy of a lullaby for a sick child, written down from +memory by Signor Lerda, of Turin, who reports it to be popular in +Tuscany: + + Sleep, dear child, as mother bids: + If thou sleep thou shalt not die! + Sleep, and death shall pass thee by. + Close worn eyes and aching lids, + Yield to soft forgetfulness; + Let sweet sleep thy senses press: + Child, on whom my love doth dwell, + Sleep, sleep, and thou shalt be well. + + See, I strew thee, soft and light, + Bed of down that cannot pain; + Linen sheets have o'er it lain + More than snow new-fallen white. + Perfume sweet, health-giving scent, + The meadows' pride, is o'er it sprent: + Sleep, dear son, a little spell, + Sleep, sleep, and thou shalt be well. + + Change thy side and rest thee there, + Beauty! love! turn on thy side, + O my son, thou dost not bide + As of yore, so fresh and fair. + Sickness mars thee with its spite, + Cruel sickness changes quite; + How, alas! its traces tell! + Yet sleep, and thou shalt be well. + + Sleep, thy mother's kisses poured + On her darling son. Repose; + God give end to all our woes. + Sleep, and wake by sleep restored, + Pangs that make thee faint shall fly! + Sleep, my child, and lullaby! + Sleep, and fears of death dispel; + Sleep, sleep, and thou shalt be well. + +"Se tu dormi, non morrai!" In how many tongues are not these words +spoken every day by trembling lips, whilst the heart seems to stand +still, whilst the eyes dare not weep, for tears would mean the victory +of hope or fear; whilst the watcher leans expectant over the beloved +little wasted form, conscious that all that can be done has been done, +that all that care or skill can try has been tried, that there are no +other remedies to fall back upon, that there is no more strength left +for battle, and that now, even in this very hour, sleep or his brother +death will decide the issue. + +When a Sicilian hears that a child is dead, he exclaims, "Glory +and Paradise!" The phrase is jubilant almost to harshness; yet the +underlying sentiment is not harsh. The thought of a dead child makes +natural harmonies with thoughts of bright and shining things. A mother +likes to dream of her lost babe as fair and spotless and little. If +she is sad, with him it is surely well. He is gone to play with the +Holy Boys. He has won the crown of innocence. There are folk-songs +that reflect this radiancy with which love clothes dead children; +songs for the last sleep full of all the confusion of fond epithets +commonly addressed to living babies. + +Only in one direction did my efforts to obtain lullabies prove +fruitless. America has, it seems, no nursery rhymes but those which +are still current in the Old World.[2] Mr Bret Harte told me: "Our +lullabies are the same as in England, but there are also a few Dutch +ones," and he went on to relate how, when he was at a small frontier +town on the Rhine, he heard a woman singing a song to her child: it +was the old story,--if the child would not sleep it would be punished, +its shoes would be taken away; if it would go to sleep at once, Santa +Claus would bring it a beautiful gift. Words and air, said Mr +Bret Harte, were strangely familiar to him; then, after a moment's +reflection, he remembered hearing this identical lullaby sung amongst +his own kindred in the Far West of America. + + [Footnote 1: The "Preaching of the children" took place as + usual in the Christmas week of 1885, but as the convent in + connection with the church of Santa Maria is about to be + pulled down, I cannot tell whether the pretty custom will be + adhered to in future. The church, however, which was also + threatened with demolition, is now safe.] + + [Footnote 2: This is confirmed by Mr W. Newell in his + admirable book, "Games and Songs of American Children" (1885), + which might be called with equal propriety, "Games and Songs + of British Children." It is indeed the best collection of + English nursery rhymes that exists. Thus America will have + given the mother country the most satisfactory editions, both + of her ballads (Prof. F. T. Child's splendid work, now in + course of publication) and of her children's songs.] + + + + +FOLK-DIRGES. + + +There are probably many persons who could repeat by heart the greater +portion of the last scene in the last book of the _Iliad_, and who +yet have never been struck by the fact, that not its least excellence +consists in its setting before us a carefully accurate picture of a +group of usages which for the antiquity of their origin, the wide +area of their observance, and the tenacity with which they have been +preserved, may be fairly said to occupy an unique position amongst +popular customs and ceremonials. First, we are shown the citizens of +Troy bearing their vanquished hero within the walls amidst vehement +demonstrations of grief: the people cling to the chariot wheels, or +prostrate themselves on the earth; the wife and the mother of the dead +tear their hair and cast it to the winds. Then the body is laid on +a bed of state, and the leaders of a choir of professional minstrels +sing a dirge, which is at times interrupted by the wailing of the +women. When this is done, Andromache, Hecuba, and Helen in turn give +voice each one to the feelings awakened in her by their common loss; +and afterwards--so soon as the proper interval has elapsed--the body +is burnt, wine being poured over the embers of the pyre. Lastly, +the ashes are consigned to the tomb, and the mourners sit down to a +banquet. "Such honours paid they to the good knight Hector;" and such, +in their main features, are the funeral rites which may be presumed to +date back to a period not only anterior to the siege of Troy, granting +for the moment that event to have veritably taken place, but also +previous to the crystallisation of the Greek or any other of the +Indo-European nationalities which flowed westward from the uplands of +the Hindu Kush. The custom of hymning the dead, which is just now what +more particularly concerns us, once prevailed over most if not all +parts of Europe; and the firmness of its hold upon the affections +of the people may be inferred from the persistency with which they +adhered to it, even when it was opposed not only by the working of the +gradual, though fatal, law of decay to which all old usages must in +the end submit, but also by the active interposition of persons +in authority. Charlemagne, for instance, tried to put it down in +Provence--desiring that all those attending funerals, who did not know +by rote any of the appropriate psalms, should recite aloud the _Kyrie +eleison_ instead of singing "profane songs" made to suit the occasion. +But the edict seems to have met with a signal want of success; for +some five hundred years after it was issued, the Provençals still +hired Præficæ, and still introduced within the very precincts of their +churches, whole choirs of lay dirge-singers, frequently composed of +young girls who were stationed in two companies, that chanted songs +alternately to the accompaniment of instrumental music; and this +notwithstanding that the clergy of Provence showed the strongest +objection to the performance of observances at funerals, other than +such as were approved by ecclesiastical sanction. The custom in +question bears an obvious affinity to Highland coronachs and Irish +keens, and here in England there is reason to believe it to have +survived as late as the seventeenth century. That Shakespeare was +well acquainted with it is amply testified by the fourth act of +_Cymbeline_; for it is plain that the song pronounced by Guiderius +and Arviragus over the supposed corpse of Imogene was no mere poetic +outburst of regret, but a real and legitimate dirge, the singing or +saying of which was held to constitute Fidele's obsequies. In the +Cotton Library there is a MS., having reference to a Yorkshire village +in the reign of Elizabeth, which relates: "When any dieth, certaine +women sing a song to the dead bodie recyting the jorney that the +partye deceased must goe." Unhappily the English Neniæ are nearly all +lost and forgotten; I know of no genuine specimen extant, except the +famous Lyke Wake (_i.e._, Death Watch) dirge beginning: + + This ae nighte, this ae nighte, + _Everie nighte and alle_, + Fire and sleete and candle lighte, + _And Christe receive thy saule_, &c. + +To the present day we find practices closely analogous with those +recounted in the _Iliad_ scattered here and there from the shores of +the Mediterranean to the banks of Lake Onega; and the Trojan threnody +is even now reproduced in Ireland, in Corsica, Sardinia, and Roumania, +in Russia, in Greece, and South Italy. Students who may be tempted to +make observations on this strange survival of the old world, will +do well, however, to set about it at once, in parts which are either +already invaded or else threatened with an imminent invasion of +railways, for the screech of the engine sounds the very death-knell of +ancient customs. Thus the Irish practice of keening is becoming less +and less general. On recently making inquiries of a gentleman residing +in Leinster, I learnt that it had gone quite out in that province; +he added that he had once seen keeners at a funeral at Clonmacnoise +(King's County), but was told they came from the Connaught side of +the Shannon. The keens must not be confused with the peculiar wail or +death-cry known as the Ullagone; they are articulate utterances, in +a strongly marked rhythm, extolling the merits of the dead, and +reproaching him for leaving his family, with much more in the same +strain. The keeners may or may not be professional, and the keens are +more often of a traditional than of an improvised description. One +or two specimens in Gaelic have appeared in the _Journal of the Irish +Archæological Association_, but on the whole the subject is far from +having received the attention it deserves. The Irish keeners are +invariably women, as also are all the continental dirge-singers +of modern times. Whether by reason of the somewhat new-fashioned +sentiment which forbids a man to exhibit his feelings in public, +or from other motives not unconnected with selfishness, the onus of +discharging the more active and laborious obligations prescribed in +popular funeral rites has bit by bit been altogether shifted upon the +shoulders of the weaker sex; _e.g._, in places where scratching and +tearing of the face forms part of the traditional ritual, the women +are expected to continue the performance of this unpleasant ceremony +which the men have long since abandoned. Together with the dirge, a +more or less serious measure of self-disfigurement has come down from +an early date. An Etruscan funeral urn, discovered at Clusi, shows an +exact picture of the hired mourners who tear their hair and rend +their garments, whilst one stands apart, in a prophetic attitude, and +declaims to the accompaniment of a flute. Of the precise origin of +the employment of Public Wailers, or Præficæ, not much has been +ascertained. One distinguished writer on folk-lore suggests that it +had its rise not in any lack of consideration for the dead, but in the +apprehension lest the repose of their ghosts should be disturbed by a +display of grief on the part of those who had been nearest and dearest +to them in life; and his theory gains support in the abundant evidence +forthcoming to attest the existence of a widely-spread notion that +the dead are pained, and even annoyed and exasperated, by the tears +of their kindred. Traces of this belief are discoverable in Zend +and Hindu writings; also amongst the Sclavs, Germans, and +Scandinavians--and, to look nearer home, in Ireland and Scotland. On +the other hand, it is possible that the business of singing before the +dead sprang from the root of well-nigh every trade--that its duties +were at first exclusively performed by private persons, and their +passing into public hands resulted simply from people finding out +that they were executed with less trouble and more efficiency by a +professional functionary; a common-place view of the matter which is +somewhat borne out by the circumstance, that whenever a member of the +family is qualified and disposed to undertake the dirge-singing, there +seems to be no prejudice against her doing so. It is often far from +easy to determine whether such or such a death-song was composed by a +hired præfica who for the time being assumed the character of one of +the dead man's relatives, or by the latter speaking in her own person. + +In Corsica, the wailing and chanting are kept up, off and on, from +the hour of death to the hour of burial. The news that the head of +a family has expired is quickly communicated to his relations and +friends in the surrounding hamlets, who hasten to form themselves +into a troop or band locally called the Scirrata, and thus advance in +procession towards the house of mourning. If the death was caused by +violence, the scirrata makes a halt when it arrives in sight of the +village; and then it is that the Corsican women tear their hair and +scratch their faces till the blood flows--just as do their sisters in +Dalmatia and Montenegro. Shortly after this, the scirrata is met by +the deceased's fellow-villagers, accompanied by all his near relatives +with the exception of the widow, to whose abode the whole party +now proceeds with loud cries and lamentations. The widow awaits the +scirrata by the door of her house, and, as it draws near, the leader +steps forward and throws a black veil over her head to symbolise her +widowhood; the term of which must offer a dreary prospect to a woman +who has the misfortune to lose her husband while she is still in the +prime of life, for public opinion insists that she remain for years in +almost total seclusion. The mourners and as many as can enter the +room assemble round the body, which lies stretched on a table or plank +supported by benches; it is draped in a long mantle, or it is clothed +in the dead man's best suit. Now begins the dirge, or Vocero. Two +persons will perhaps start off singing together, and in that case the +words cannot be distinguished; but more often only one gets up at a +time. She will open her song with a quietly-delivered eulogy of the +virtues of the dead, and a few pointed allusions to the most important +events of his life; but before long she warms to her work, and pours +forth volleys of rhythmic lamentation with a fire and animation that +stir up the women present into a frenzied delirium of grief, in which, +as the præfica pauses to take breath, they howl, dig their nails into +their flesh, throw themselves on the ground, and sometimes cover their +heads with ashes. When the dirge is ended they join hands and dance +frantically round the plank on which the body lies. More singing takes +place on the way to the church, and thence to the graveyard. After the +funeral the men do not shave for weeks, and the women let their hair +go loose and occasionally cut it off at the grave--cutting off the +hair being, by the way, a universal sign of female mourning; it was +done by the women of ancient Greece, and it is done by the women of +India. A good deal of eating and drinking brings the ceremonials to a +close. If the bill of fare comes short of that recorded of the funeral +feast of Sir John Paston, of Barton, when 1300 eggs, 41 pigs, 40 +calves, and 10 nete were but a few of the items--nevertheless the +Corsican baked meats fall very heavily upon the pockets of such +families as deem themselves compelled to "keep up a position." Sixty +persons is not an extraordinary number to be entertained at the +banquet, and there is, over and above, a general distribution of bread +and meat to poorer neighbours. Mutton in summer, and pork in winter, +are esteemed the viands proper to the occasion. In happy contrast to +all this lugubrious feasting is the simple cup of milk drunk by each +kinsman of the shepherd who dies in the mountains; in which case his +body is laid out, like Robin Hood's, in the open air, a green sod +under his head, his loins begirt with the pistol belt, his gun at +his side, his dog at his feet. Curious are the superstitions of the +Corsican shepherds touching death. The dead, they say, call the living +in the night time, and he who answers will soon follow them; they +believe, too, that, if you listen attentively after dark, you may hear +at times the low beating of a drum, which announces that a soul has +passed. + +A notable section of the voceri treats of that insatiable thirst +after vengeance which formerly provided as fruitful a theme to French +romancers as it presented a perplexing problem to French legislators. +In these dirges we see the vendetta in its true character, as the +outgrowth and relic of times when people were, in self-defence, +almost coerced into lawlessness through the perpetual miscarriage +of constituted justice, and they enable us to better understand the +process by which what was at the outset something of the nature of a +social necessity, developed into the ruling passion of the race, and +led to the frightful abuses that are associated with its name. All +that he held sacred in heaven or on earth became bound up in the +Corsican's mind with the obligation to avenge the blood of his +kindred. Thus he made Hate his deity, and the old inexorable spirit +of the Greek _Oresteia_ lived and breathed in him anew, the Furies +themselves finding no bad counterpart in the frenzied women who +officiated at his funeral rites. As is well known, when no man was to +be found to do the deed a woman would often come forward in his stead, +and this not only among the lower orders, but in the highest ranks of +society. A lady of the noble house of Pozzo di Borgo once donned +male attire, and in velvet-tasselled cap, red doublet, high sheepskin +boots, with pistol, gun, and dagger for her weapons, started off in +search of an assassin at the head of a band of partisans. When he was +caught, however, after the guns had been two or three times levelled +at his breast, she decided to give him his life. Another fair avenger +whose name has come down to us was Maria Felice di Calacuccia, of +Niolo. Her vocero may be cited here as affording a good idea of the +tone and spirit of the vendetta dirges in general. + +"I was spinning at my distaff when I heard a loud noise; it was a +gun-shot, it re-echoed in my heart. It seemed to say to me: 'Fly! thy +brother dies.' I ran into the upper chamber. As I unlatched the door, +'I am struck to the heart,' he said; and I fell senseless to the +ground. If I too died not, it was that one thought sustained me. Whom +wouldst thou have to avenge thee? Our mother, nigh to death, or thy +sister Maria? If Lario was not dead surely all this would not end +without bloodshed. But of so great a race, thou dost only leave thy +sister: she has no cousins, she is poor, an orphan, young. Still be at +rest--to avenge thee, she suffices!" + +A dramatic vocero, dealing with the same subject, is that of the +sister of Canino, a renowned brigand, who fell at Nazza in an +encounter with the military. She begins by regretting that she has not +a voice of thunder wherewith to rehearse his prowess. Alas! one early +morning the soldiers ("barbarous set of bandits that they are!") +sallied forth on his pursuit, and pounced upon him like wolves upon +a lamb. When she heard the bustle of folks going to and fro in the +street, she put her head out of window and asked what it was all +about. "Thy brother has been slaughtered in the mountains," they +reply. Even so it was; his arquebuse was of no use to him; no, nor his +dagger, nor his pistol, nor yet his amulet. When they brought him in, +and she beheld his wounds, the bitterness of her grief redoubled. Why +did he not answer her--did he lack heart to do so? "Canino, heart of +thy sister," she cries, "how thou art grown pale! Thou that wert +so stalwart and so full of grace, thou who didst appear like unto a +nosegay of flowers. Canino, heart of thy sister, they have taken thy +life. I will plant a blackthorn in the land of Nazza, that none of our +house may henceforth pass that way--for there were not three or four, +but seven men against one. Would I could make my bed at the foot of +the chestnut tree beneath whose shade they fired upon thy breast. I +desire to cast aside these women's skirts, to arm me with poniard, and +pistol, and gun, to gird me with the belt and pouch; Canino, heart of +thy sister, I desire to avenge thy death." In the lamentations over +one Matteo, a doctor who was murdered in 1745, we have an example of +the songs improvised along the road to the grave. This time there are +plenty of male relatives--brothers, brothers-in-law, and cousins--to +accomplish the vendetta. The funeral procession passes through the +village where the crime was committed, and one of the inhabitants, +perhaps as a peace-offering, invites the whole party to come in and +refresh themselves. To this a young girl replies: "We want none of +your bread and wine; what we do want is your blood." She invokes a +thunderbolt to exterminate every soul in the blood-guilty place. But +an aged dame interposes, for a wonder, with milder counsels; she bids +her savage sisters calm their wrath: "Is not Matteo in heaven with the +Lord? Look at his winding sheet," says she, "and learn from it that +Christ dwells above, who teaches forgiveness. The waters are troubled +enough already without your goading on your men to violence." It is +not unlikely that the Corsicans may have been in the habit, like the +Irish, of intentionally parading the coffin of a murdered man past the +door of the suspected murderer, in order that they might have a public +opportunity of branding the latter with infamy. + +Having glanced at these hymns of the avenger, we will turn to the +laments expressive of grief unmixed with threats or anger. In these, +also, Corsica is very rich. Sometimes it is a wife who deplores her +husband struck down by no human hand, but by fever or accident. In one +such vocero the widow pathetically crowds epithet on epithet, in the +attempt to give words to her affection and her sorrow. "You were my +flower, my thornless rose, my stalwart one, my column, my brother, my +hope, my prop, my eastern gem, my most beautiful treasure," she says +to her lost "Petru Francescu!" She curses fate which in a brief moment +has deprived her of her paladin--she prayed so hard that he might +be spared, but it was all in vain. He was laid low, the greatly +courageous one, who seemed so strong! Is it indeed true, that he, the +clever-headed, the handy-handed, will leave his Nunziola all alone? +Then she bids Mari, her little daughter, come hither to where papa +lies, and beg him to pray God in paradise that she may have a better +lot than her little mother. She wishes her eyes may change into two +fountains ere she forgets his name; for ever would she call him her +Petru Francescu. But most of all she wishes that her heart might +break so that her poor little soul could go with his, and quit this +treacherous world where is no more joy. The typical keen given in +Carleton's _Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry_ is so like +Nunziola's vocero, that in parts it might be taken for a translation +of it. Sometimes it is a plaint of a mother whose child has met the +fate of those "whom the gods love." That saying about the gods has its +equivalent in the Corsican lines: + + Chi nasci pe u paradisu + A stu mondu un po' imbecchia, + +which occur in the lament of La Dariola Danesi, of Zuani, who mourns +her sixteen-year-old daughter Romana. Decked in feast-day raiment +the damsel sleeps in the rest of death, after all her sufferings. Her +sweet face has lost its hues of red and white; it is like a gone-out +sun. Romana was the fairest of all the young girls, a rose among +flowers; the youths of the country round were consumed by love of her, +but in her presence they were filled with decorous respect. She was +courteous to all, familiar with none; in church everybody gazed at +her, but she looked at no one; and the minute mass was over she would +say: "Mamma, let us go." Never can the mother be consoled, albeit she +knows her darling fares well up there in heaven where all things smile +and are glad. Of a surety this earth was not worthy to contain so fair +a face. "Ah! how much more beautiful Paradise will be now she is in +it!" cries the voceratrice, with the sublime audacity of maternal +love. In another dirge we have pictured a troop of girls coming early +to the house of Maria, their young companion, to escort her to the +Church of St Elia: for this morning the father of her betrothed has +settled the marriage portion, and it is seemly that she should hear +mass, and make an offering of wax tapers. But the maiden's mother +comes forth to tell the gladsome band that to-day's offering to +St Elia is not of waxen tapers; it is a peerless flower, a bouquet +adorned with ribands--surely the saint will be well pleased with such +a fine gift! For the bride elect lies dead; who will now profit by +her possessions--the twelve mattresses, the twenty-four lambs? "I will +pray the Virgin," says the mother, "I will pray my God that I may go +hence this morning, pressing my flower to my heart." The playfellows +bathe Maria's face with tears: sees she not those who loved her? Will +she leave them in their sadness? One runs to pluck flowers, a second +to gather roses; they twine her a garland, a bridal crown--will she +depart all the same, lying upon her bier? But, after all, why should +there be all this grief? "To-day little Maria becomes the spouse of +the Lord; with what honour will she not be greeted in paradise!" +Alas for broken hearts! they were never yet healed by that line of +argument. Up the street steals the chilling sound of the funeral +chant, _Ora pro eâ_. They are come to bear the maiden to St Elia's +Church; the mother sinks to the ground; fain would she follow the body +to the grave, but she faints with sorrow; only her streaming tears can +pay the tribute of her love. + +It will be observed that it is usual for the survivors to be held up +as objects of pity rather than the dead, who are generally regarded +as well off; but now and then we come across less optimist presages of +the future life. A woman named Maddelè complains that they have taken +her blonde daughter, her snow-white dove, her "Chilì, cara di Mamma," +to the worst possible of places, where no sun penetrates, and no fire +is lit. + +Sometimes to a young girl is assigned the task of bewailing her +playmate. "This morning my companion is all adorned," begins a maiden +dirge-singer; "one would think she was going to be married." But the +ceremony about to take place differs sadly from that other. The +bell tolls slowly, the cross and banner arrive at the door; the dead +companion is setting out on a long journey, she is going to find their +ancestors--the voceratrice's father, and her uncle the curé--in the +land whither each one must go in his turn and remain for ever. Since +she has made up her mind thus to change country and climate (though +it be all too soon, for she has not yet done growing), will she at any +rate listen for an instant to her friend of other days? She wishes +to give her a little letter to carry to her father; and, besides the +letter, she would like her to take him a message, and give him news of +the family he left so young, all weeping round his hearth. She is to +tell him that all goes well; that his eldest daughter is married and +has a boy, a flowering lily, who already knows his father, and points +at him with his finger. The boy is called after the grandpapa, and old +friends declare him to be his very image. To the curé she is to say +that his flock flourish and do not forget him. Now the priest enters, +bringing the holy water; everyone lifts his hat; they bear the body +away: "Go to heaven, dear; the Lord awaits you." + +It is hardly necessary to add that the voceri of Corsica are without +exception composed in the native speech of the country, which the +accomplished scholar, lexicographer, and poet, Niccolò Tommaseo, spoke +of with perfect truth as one of "the most Italian of the dialects +of Italy." The time may come when the people will renounce their own +language in favour of the idiom of their rulers, but it has not come +yet; nor do they show much disposition to abandon their old usages, as +may be guessed from the fact that even in their Gallicanised capital +the dead are considered slighted if the due amount of wailing is left +undone. + +The Sardinian Attitido--a word which has been thought to have some +connection with the Greek [Greek: ototoi], and the Latin _atat_--is +made on exactly the same pattern as the Corsican vocero. I have been +told on trustworthy authority that in some districts in the island the +keening over a married man is performed not by a dirge-singer but by +his own children, who chant a string of homely sentences, such as: +"Why art thou dead, papa? Thou didst not want for bread or wine!" A +practice may here be mentioned which recalls the milk and honey and +nuts of the Roman Inferiæ, and which, so far as I am aware, lingers on +nowhere excepting Sardinia; the attidora whilst she sings, scatters +on the bier handfuls of almonds or--if the family is well-to-do--of +sweetmeats, to be subsequently buried with the body. + +Very few specimens of the attitido have found their way into print; +but amongst these few, in Canon Spano's _Canti popolari Tempiesi_, +there is one that is highly interesting. Doubts have been raised as +to whether the bulk of the songs in Canon Spano's collection are of +purely illiterate origin; but even if the author of the dirge to which +I allude was guilty of that heinous offence in the eyes of the strict +folk-lore gleaner--the knowledge of the alphabet--it must still be +judged a remarkable production. The attidora laments the death of a +much-beloved bishop:-- + +"It was the pleasure of this good father, this gentle pastor," she +says, "at all hours to nourish his flock; to the bread of the soul he +joined the bread of the body. Was the wife naked, her sons starving +and destitute? He laboured unceasingly to console them all. The one he +clothed, the others he fed. None can tell the number of the poor whom +he succoured. The naked came to him that they might be clothed, the +hungry came to him that they might be fed, and all went their way +comforted. How many had suffered hunger in the winter's cold, had not +his tender heart proffered them help! It was a grand sight to behold +so many poor gathered together in his house--above, below, they were +so numerous there was no room to pass. And these were the comers of +every day. I do not count those to whom once a month he supplied +the needful food, nor yet those other poor to whose necessities he +ministered in secret. By the needy rogue he let himself be deceived +with shut eyes: he recognised the fraud, but he esteemed it gain so to +lose. Ah, dear father, father to us all, I ought not to weep for thee! +I mourn our common bereavement, for thy death this day has been a blow +to all of us, even to the strongest men." + +It would be hard to conceive a more lovely portrait of the Christian +priest; it is scarcely surpassed by that of Monseigneur Bienvenu +in _Les Misérables_, of whose conduct in the matter of the silver +candlesticks we are not a little reminded by the good Sardinian +bishop's compassion for the needy rogue. Neither the one nor the other +realises an ideal which would win the unconditional approval of the +Charity Organisation Society, and we must perhaps admit that humane +proclivities which indirectly encourage swindling are more a mischief +than an advantage to the State. Yet who can be insensible to the +beauty of this unconquerable pity for the evil-doer, this charity that +believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things? Who can +say how much it has done to make society possible, to keep the world +on its wheels? It is the bond that binds together all religions. Six +thousand years ago the ancient Egyptian dirge-singers chanted before +their dead: "There is no fault in him. No answer riseth up against +him. In the truth he liveth, with the truth he nourisheth himself. +The gods are satisfied with all he hath done.... He succoured the +afflicted, he gave bread to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, clothes +to the naked, he sheltered the outcast, his doors were open to the +stranger, he was a father to the fatherless." + +The part of France where dirge-singing stayed the longest seems to +have been the south-west. The old women of Gascony still preserve +the memory of a good many songs, some of which have been fortunately +placed on record by M. Bladé in his collection of Gascon folk-lore. +The Gascon dirge is a kind of prose recitative made up of distinct +exclamations that fall into irregular strophes. Each has a burden of +this description: + + Ah! + Ah! Ah! Ah! + Ah! Praube! + Ah! Praube! + Moun Diu! + Moun Diu! Moun Diu! + +The wife mourns for the loss of "Praube Jan;" when she was a young +girl she loved only him. "No, no! I will not have it! I will not have +them take thee to the graveyard!" "What will become of us?" asks the +daughter; "my poor mother is infirm, my brothers and sisters are too +small; there is only me to rule the house." The mother bewails her +boy: "Poor little one! I loved thee so much, thou wert so pretty, thou +wert so good. Thou didst work so well; all I bid thee do, thou didst; +all I told thee, didst thou believe; thou wert very young, yet already +didst thou earn thy bread. Poor little one, thou art dead; they carry +thee to the grave, with the cross going before. They put thee into +the earth.... Poor little one, I shall see thee no more; never! never! +never! Thou goest and I stay. My God! thou wilt be very lonely in the +graveyard this night; and I, I shall weep at home." + +If we transport ourselves to the government of Olonetz, we discover +the first cousin of the Corsican voceratrice in the Russian Voplénitsa +("the sobbing one"). But the jurisdiction of this functionary is of +wider extent; she is mistress of the ceremonies at marriages as well +as at funerals, and in both cases either improvises new songs or +adapts old ones. Mr Ralston has familiarised English readers with some +excellent samples of the Russian neniæ in his work on the _Songs of +the Russian People_. In Montenegro dirge-singing survives in its +most primitive form. During the war of 1877 there were frequent +opportunities of observing it. One such occurred at Ostrog. A wounded +man arrived at that place, which was made a sort of hospital station, +with his father and mother, his sisters and a brother. Another +brother and a cousin had fallen by his side in the last fight--the +Montenegrins have always gone into battle in families--and the women +had their faces covered with scratches, self-inflicted in their +mourning for these kindred. The man was young, lively, and courageous; +he might have got well but there were no surgical instruments to +extract the ball in his back, and so in a day or two he was dead. At +three in the morning the women began shrieking in spite of the orders +given by the doctors in the interest of the other wounded; the noise +was horrible, and no sooner were they driven away than they came back +and renewed it. The Prince, who has tried to put down the custom as +barbarous, was quartered at Ostrog, and he succeeded in having the +wailers quieted for a moment, but when the body was borne to the +cemetery the uproar began again. The women beat their breasts, +scratched their faces, and screamed at a pitch that could be heard +a mile off. It is usual to return to the house where the person +died--they made their way therefore back into the hospital (the Prince +being absent), and it was only after immense efforts on the part of +the sisters of charity and those who were in authority that they were +expelled. Then they seated themselves in the courtyard, and continued +beating their breasts and reciting their death-song. An eyewitness of +the scene described the dirge as a monotonous chant. One of the dead +man's sisters had worked herself up into a state of hysterical frenzy, +in which she seemed to have lost all control over her words and +actions; she led the dirge, and her rhythmic ejaculations flowed forth +as if she had no power to contain them. The father and brother went to +salute the Prince the day after the funeral; the old man appeared to +be extremely cheerful, but was doggedly inattentive to the advice to +go home and fight no more, as his family had suffered enough losses. +He had a son of ten, he said, who could accompany him now as there was +a gun to spare, which before had not been the case. He wished he had +ten sons to bring them all to fight the Turks. + +The Sclavs are everywhere very strict in all that regards the cult +of the dead, and the observances which have to be gone through by +Russians who have lost friends or relations are by no means confined +to the date of death and burial. Even when they have experienced +no personal loss, they are still thought called upon to visit the +cemeteries on the second Tuesday after Easter, and howl lustily over +the tombs of their ancestors. Nor would it be held sufficient to strew +flowers upon the graves, as is done on the Catholic All Souls' +day; the most orthodox ghosts want something more substantial, and +libations of beer and spirits are poured over their resting-places. +Furthermore, disagreeable consequences have been said to result upon +an omission of like marks of respect due to "the rude forefathers +of the hamlet;" there is no making sure that a highly estimable +individual will not, when thus incensed, re-enter an appearance +on life's stage in the shape of a vampire. A small volume might be +written on the preventive measures adopted to procure immunity from +such-like visitations. The people of Havellend and Altmark put a small +coin into the mouths of the dead in the hope that, so appeased, they +will not assume vampire form; but this time the superstition, like +a vast number of others, is clearly a later invention to explain a +custom, the original significance of which is forgotten. The peasants +of Roumelia also place pieces of money in the coffins, not as an +insurance against vampires--who they think may be best avoided by +burning instead of burying the mortal remains of any person they +credit with the prospect of becoming one--but to pay the entrance fee +into Paradise; a more authentic version of the old fable. The setting +apart of a day, fixed by the Church or varying according to private +anniversaries, for the special commemoration of the dead, is a +world-wide custom. + +If, as Mr Herbert Spencer thinks, the rudimentary form of all religion +is the propitiation of dead ancestors who are supposed still to exist, +some kind of _fête des morts_ was probably the oldest of religious +feasts. A theory has been started, to the effect that the time of its +appointment has been widely influenced by the rising of the Pleiades, +in support of which is cited the curious fact that the Australians and +Society Islanders keep the celebration in November, though with +them November is a spring month. But this may be no more than a +coincidence. In ancient Rome, in Russia, in China, the tendency has +been to commemorate the dead in the season of resurrection. + +The Letts and Esthonians observe the Feast of Souls, by spreading a +banquet of which they suppose their spirit relatives to partake; they +put torches on the graves to light the ghosts to the repast, and they +imagine every sound they hear through the day to be caused by the +movements of the invisible guests. Both these people celebrate +death-watches with much singing and drinking, the Esthonians +addressing long speeches to the dead, and asking him why he did +not stay longer, if his puddro (gruel) was not to his taste, &c., +precisely after the style of the keeners of less remote parts. In +some countries the entire system of life would seem to be planned and +organised mainly with a view to honouring the dead. In Albania, for +example, one of the foremost objects pursued by the peasantry is +that of marrying their daughters near home; not so much from any +affectionate unwillingness to part with them, as in order to secure +their attendance at the _vaï_ or lamentations which take place on +the death of a member of the family; and so rigorous are the mourning +regulations, that even married women who have lost their fathers +remain year after year shut up in houses deprived of light and draped +in black--they may not even go out to church. The Albanian keens are +not always versified; they sometimes consist simply in the endless +reiteration of a single phrase. M. Auguste Dozon reports that he was +at one time constantly hearing "les hurlements" of a poor Mussulman +widow who bewailed two sons; on certain anniversaries she took their +clothes out of a chest, and, placing them before her, she repeated, +without intermission, [Greek: Chalasia mon]. The Greeks have the +somewhat analogous practice, on the recurrence of the death-days +of their dear ones, of putting their lips close to the graves and +whispering to their silent tenants that they still love them. + +The near relations in Greece leave their dwelling, as soon as they +have closed the eyes of the dead, to take refuge in the house of a +friend, with whom they sojourn till the more distant connections have +had time to arrive, and the body is dressed in holiday gear. Then they +return, clothe themselves in white dresses, and take up their position +beside the bier. After some inarticulate wailing, which is strenuously +echoed back by the neighbours, the dirge is sung, the chief female +mourner usually leading off, and whosoever feels disposed following +wake. When the body is lowered into the earth, the best-beloved of the +dead--his mother or perhaps his betrothed--stoops down to the ground +and imploringly utters his name, together with the word "Come!" On his +making no reply, he is declared to be indeed dead, and the grave is +closed.[1] The usage points to a probability that all the exhortations +to awaken and to return with which the dirges of every nation +are interlarded are remnants of ancient makeshifts for a medical +certificate of death; and we may fancy with what breathless +excitement these apostrophes were spoken in former days when they were +accompanied by an actual, if faint, expectation that they would be +heard and answered. It is conceivable that the complete system of +making as much noise as possible at funerals may be derived from some +sort of notion that the uproar would wake the dead if he were not dead +at all, but sleeping. As elsewhere, so in Greece, the men take no part +in the proceedings beyond bidding one last farewell just before they +retire from the scene. Præficæ are still employed now and then; but +the art of improvisation seems to be the natural birthright of Greek +peasant women, nor do they require the inspiration of strong grief to +call their poetic gifts into operation; it is stated to be no unusual +thing to hear a girl stringing elegies over some lamb, or bird, or +flower, which may have died, while she works in the fields. The Greeks +send communications and even flowers by the dead to the dead: "Now +is the time," the folk-poet makes one say whose body is about to be +buried, "for you to give me any messages or commissions; and if your +grief is too poignant for utterance, write it down on paper and bring +me the letter." The Greek neniæ are marked by great vigour and variety +of imagery as is apparent in the subjoined extract from the dirge of a +poor young country-woman who was left a widow with two children:-- + +"The other day I beheld at our threshold a youth of lofty stature and +threatening mien; he had out-stretched wings of gleaming white, and in +his hand was a sword. 'Woman, is thy husband in the house?' 'Yes; he +combs our Nicos' hair, and caresses him so he may not cry. Go not in, +terrible youth; do not frighten our babe.' The white-winged would not +listen; I tried to drive him back, but I could not; he darted past +me, and ran to thy side, O my beloved. Hapless one, he smote thee; and +here is thy little son, thy tiny Nicos, whom likewise he was fain to +strike." ... + +So vivid was the impression created by the woman's fantasy that +some of the spectators looked towards the door, half expecting the +white-winged visitant to advance in their midst; others turned to the +child, huddled by his mother's knees. She, coming down from flights +of imagination to the bitter realities of her condition, exclaimed, +as she flung herself sobbing upon the bier: "How can I maintain the +children? How will they be able to live? What will they not suffer in +the contrast between the rough lot in store for them and the tender +care which guarded them in the happy days when their father lived?" At +last, worn out by the force of her emotions, she sank senseless to the +floor. The laments of widows, which are very rare in some localities, +are often to be met with in Greece. In one of them we come upon an +original idea respecting the requirements of spirits: the singer prays +that her tears may swell into a lake or a sea, so they may trickle +through the earth to the nether regions, to moisten those who get +no rain, to be drink to those who thirst, and--to fill up the dry +inkstands of the writers! "Then will they be able to chronicle the +chagrins of the loved ones who cross the river, taste its wave, and +forget their homes and their poor orphans." Every species of Grecian +peasant-song abounds in classical reminiscences, which are easy to +identify, although they betray some mental confusion of the attributes +and functions belonging to the personages of antiquity. Of all the +early myths, that of the Stygian ferryman is the one which has shown +greatest longevity. Far from falling into oblivion, the son of Erebus +has gone on diligently accumulating honours till he has managed to get +the arbitrament of life and death into his power, and to enlist the +birds of the air as a staff of spies, to give him prompt information +should any unlucky individual refer to him in a tone of mockery or +defiance. Perhaps this is not development but reversion. Charon may +have been a great Infernal deity before he was a boatman. The Charun +of the Etruscans could destroy life and torment the guilty--the office +of conducting shades to the other world forming only one part of his +duties. + +The opinion of Achilles, that it was better to be a slave amongst +men than a king over ghosts, is very much that which prevails in the +Greece of to-day. Visions of a Christian paradise above the skies +have much less hold on the popular mind than dread of a pagan Tartarus +under the earth; and that full conviction that after all it was a very +bad thing to die, that tendency to attach a paramount value to life, +_per se_, and _quand même_, which constituted so significant a +feature of the old Greeks, is equally characteristic of their modern +representatives. The next world of the Romaic songs is far from +being a place "where all smiles and is glad;" the forebodings of the +Corsican's Chilina's mother are common enough here in Greece. "Rejoice +in the present world, rejoice in the passing day," runs a [Greek: +myrologion], quoted by Fauriel; "to-morrow you will be under the sod, +and will behold the day no more." Down in Tartarus youths and maidens +spend their time dismally in asking if there be yet an earth and a +sky up above. Are there still churches and golden icons? Do people +continue to work at their several trades? "Blessed are the mountains +and the pastures," it is said, "where we meet not Charon." The parents +of a dying girl ask of her why she is resolved to hasten into the +other world where the cock crows not, and the hen clucks not; +where there is no water and no grass, and where the hungry find it +impossible to eat, and the tired are incapable of sleep. Why is +she not content to abide at home? The girl replies she cannot, for +yesterday, in the late evening, she was married, and her consort is +the tomb. That is the peasant elegist's way of speaking of a sudden +death, caused very likely by the chill of nightfall. Of another +damsel, who succumbed to a long illness, "who had suffered as none +before suffered under the sun," he narrates how she pressed her +father's hand to her heart, saying: "Alas! my father, I am about to +die." She clasped her mother's hand to her breast, saying: "Alas! my +mother, I am about to die." Then she sent for her betrothed, and she +bent over him and kissed him, and whispered softly into his ear: "Oh, +my friend, when I am dead deck my grave as you would have decked my +nuptial bed." We find in Greek poesy the universal legend of the lover +who kills himself on hearing of the death of his mistress; but, as +a rule, the regret of survivors is depicted as neither desperate nor +durable. Long ago, three gallant youths plotted together to contrive +an escape from Hades, and a fair-haired maiden prayed that they would +take her with them; she did so wish to see her mother mourning her +loss, her brothers weeping because she is no more. They answered: "As +to thy brothers, poor girl, they are dancing, and thy mother diverts +herself with gossiping in the street." The mournfully beautiful +music that Schubert wedded to Claudius's little poem _Der Tod und das +Mädchen_ might serve as melodious expression to many a one of these +Grecian lays of dead damsels. Death will not halt because he hears +a voice crying: "Tarry, I am still so young!" The future is as +irrevocably fixed as the past; and if fate deals hardly by mortals, +there is nothing to fall back upon but the sorry resignation of +despair; such is the sombre folk philosophy of the land of eternal +summer. Perhaps it is the very brightness of the sky and air that +makes the quitting of this mortal coil so unspeakably grievous. The +most horribly painful idea associated with death in the mind of the +modern as of the ancient Greek is the idea of darkness, of separation +from what Dante, yet more Greek than Italian in his passionate +sun-worship, describes in a line which seems somehow to hold incarnate +the thing it tells of-- + + ... l'aer dolce che dal sol s'allegra. + +It is worth noting that, whether the view entertained of immortality +be cheerful or the reverse, in the songs of Western nations the +disembodied soul is universally taken to be the exact duplicate of +the creature of flesh and blood, in wants, tastes, and semblance. The +European folk-singer could no more grasp a metaphysical conception of +the eternity of spirit, such as that implied in the grand Indian dirge +which craves everlasting good for the "unborn part" in man, than +he would know what to make of the scientific theory of the +indestructibility of matter shadowed forth in the ordinary Sanskrit +periphrases for death, signifying "the resolution of the body into its +five elementary constituents." + +Among the Greek-speaking inhabitants of Southern Italy a peculiar +metre is set apart to the composition of the neniæ, and the office +of public wailer is transmitted from mother to daughter; so that the +living præficæ are the lineal descendants of the præficæ who lived +of old in the Grecian Motherland. Unrivalled in the matter of her +improvisations as in the manner of their delivery, the hereditary +dirge-singer no doubt, like a good actress, keenly realises at +the moment the sorrow not her own, of which she undertakes the +interpretation in return for a trifling gratuity, and to her hearers +she appears as the genius or high priestess of woe: she excites them +into a whirlwind of ecstatic paroxysms not greatly differing +from kindred phenomena vouched for by the historians of religious +mysticism. There are, however, one or two of the Græco-Italic +death-songs which bear too clear and touching a stamp of sincerity for +us to attribute them even to the most skilled of hired "sobbing ones." +There is no savour of vicarious mourning in the plaint of the desolate +girl, who says to her dead mother that she will wait for her, so that +she may tell her how she has passed the day: at eight she will await +her, and if she does not come she will begin to weep; at nine she will +await her, and if she comes not she will grow black as soot; at ten +she will await her, and if she does not come at ten she will turn to +earth, to earth that may be sown in. And it is difficult to believe +that aught save the anguish of a mother's broken heart could have +quickened the senses of an ignorant peasant to the tragic intensity of +the following lament: + + Now they have buried thee, my little one, + Who will make thy little bed? + Black Death will make it for me + For a very long night. + Who will arrange thy pillows, + So thou mayst sleep softly? + Black Death will arrange them for me + With hard stones. + Who will awake thee, my daughter, + When day is up? + Down here it is always sleep, + Always dark night. + This my daughter was fair. + When I went (with her) to high mass, + The columns shone, + The way grew bright. + +The neniæ of Terra d'Otranto and of Calabria are not uncommonly +composed in a semi-dramatic form. Professor Comparetti cites one, in +which the friend of a dead girl is represented as going to pay her a +visit, in ignorance of the misfortune that has happened. She sees a +crowd at the door, and she exclaims: "How many folks are in thy house! +they come from all the neighbourhood; they are bidden by thy mother, +who shows thee the bridal array!" But on crossing the threshold she +finds that the shutters are closed: "Alas!" she cries, "I deceive +myself--I enter into darkness." Again she repeats: "How many folks are +in thy house! All Corigliano is there." The mother says: "My daughter +has bidden them by the tolling of the bell." Then the daughter is made +to ask: "What ails thee, what ails thee, my mother? wherefore +dost thou rend thy hair?" The mother rejoins: "I think of thee, my +daughter, of how thou liest down in darkness." "What ails thee, what +ails thee, my mother, that all around one can hear thee wailing?" "I +think of thee, my daughter, of how thou art turned black as soot." A +sort of chorus is appended: "All, all the mothers weep and rend their +hair: let them weep, the poor mothers who lose their children." Here +are the last four lines as they were originally set on paper: + + Ole sole i mane i cluene + Isirnune anapota ta maddia, + Afi nà clapsune tio mane misere + Pu ichannune ta pedia! + +Professor Comparetti has shaped them into looking more like Greek: + + [Greek: Olais, holais ê manai êklaioune + Êsyrnoune anapoda ta mallia + Aphêse na klapsoune tais manais] _misere_ + [Greek: Pou êchanoune ta paidia!] + +In his "Tour through the Southern Provinces of the Kingdom of Naples," +the Hon. R. Keppel Craven gave an account of a funeral at Corigliano. +The deceased, a stout, swarthy man of about fifty, had been fond of +field sports; he was, therefore, laid on his open bier in the dress of +a hunter. When the procession passed the house of a friend of the dead +man, it halted as a mark of respect, and the friend got up from his +dinner and looked out for a few minutes, afterwards philosophically +returning to the interrupted meal. The busy people in the street, +carpenters, blacksmiths, cobblers, and fruitsellers, paused from their +several occupations--all carried on, as usual, in the open air, when +the dismal chant of the priests announced the approach of the funeral, +resuming them with redoubled energy as soon as it had moved on. +A group of weeping women led the widow, whose face was pale and +motionless as a statue; her black tresses descended to her knees, +and at regular intervals she pulled out two or three hairs--the women +instantly taking hold of her hands and replacing them by her side, +where they hung till the operation was next repeated. + +The practice of plucking out the hair was so general in the last +century that even at Naples the old women had hardly a hair left from +out-living many relations. It was proper also to observe the day +of burial as a fast day. Two unlucky women near Salerno lost their +characters for ever because the dog of a visitor who had come to +condole, sniffed out a dish of tripe which had been hastily thrust +into a corner. + +The Italian, or rather Calabrese-speaking population of Calabria, +call their preficæ--where they still have any--_Reputatrici_. Some +remarkable songs have been collected in the commune of Pizzo, the +place of dubious fame by whose peasants Murat was caught and betrayed. +There is something Dantesque in the image of Death as _'nu gran +levreri_ crouching in a mountain defile: + + Joy, I saw death; Joy, I saw her yesterday; I beheld her in a + narrow way, like unto a great greyhound, and I was very + curious. "Death, whence comest thou?" "I am come from Germany, + going thence to Count Roger. I have killed princes, counts, + and cavaliers; and now I am come for a young maiden so that + with me she may go". + + Weep, mamma, weep for me, weep and never rest; weep for me + Sunday, Easter, and Christmas Day; for no more wilt thou see + thy daughter sit down at thy board to eat, and no more shalt + thou await me. + +One conclusion forced upon us incidentally by folk-dirges must seem +strange when we remember how few are the cultured poetesses who have +attained eminence--to wit, that with the unlettered multitude the +poetic faculty is equally the property of women as of men. + +In various parts of Italy the funerals of the poor are conducted +exclusively by those of like sex with the dead--a custom of which I +first took note at Varese in the year 1879. The funeral procession +came up slowly by the shady paths near the lake; long before it +appeared one could hear the sound of shrill voices chanting a litany. +When it got near to the little church of S. Vittore, it was seen that +only women followed the bier, which was carried by women. "Una povera +donna morta in parto," said a peasant standing by, as she pointed to +the coffin with a gesture of sympathy. The mourners had black shawls +thrown over their heads and bore tapers. A sight yet stranger to +unaccustomed eyes is the funeral of a child at Spezia. A number of +little girls, none older than eleven or twelve, some as young as five, +carry the small coffin to the cemetery. Some of the children hold +candles; they are nicely dressed in their best frocks; the sun plays +on their bare black or golden curls. They have the little serious look +of children engaged in some business of work or play, but no look of +gloom or sadness. The coffin is covered with a white pall on which +lies a large nosegay. No priests or elder persons are there except one +man, walking apart, who has to see that the children go the right +way. About twenty children is the average number, but there may +be sometimes a hundred. When they return, running across the grass +between the road and the sea-wall, they tumble over one another in the +scramble to snatch daisies from the ground. + +It is still common in Lombardy to ring the bells _d'allegrezza_ on the +death of an infant, "because its soul goes straight to Paradise." This +way of ringing, or, rather, chiming, consists in striking the bell +with a clapper held in the hand, when a light, dancing sound is +produced, something like that of hand-bells. On a high _festa_ all the +bells are used; for dead babies, only two. I have often heard the sad +message sounding gaily from the belfry at Salò. + +Were I sure that all these songs of the Last Parting would have +for others the same interest that they have had for me, I should +be tempted to add a study dedicated solely to the dirges of savage +nations and of those nations whose civilization has not followed the +same course as ours. I must, at all events, indicate the wonderfully +strange and wild Polynesian "Death-talks" and "Evas" (dirges proper) +collected by the Rev. W. W. Gill. The South Pacific Islanders say of +the dying, "he is passing over the sea." Their dead set out in a canoe +on a long and perilous voyage to the regions of the sun-setting. When +they get there, alas!--when they reach the mysterious spirit-land, +a horrid doom awaits them: children and old men and women--all, in +short, who have not died in battle, are devoured by a dreadful deity, +and perish for ever. But this fate does not overtake them immediately; +for a time they remain in a shadowy intermediate state till their +turn comes. The spirit-journey is described in a dirge for two little +children, composed by their father about the year 1796: + + "Thy god,[2] pet-child, is a bad one; + For thy body is attenuated; + This wasting sickness must end thy days. + Thy form, once so plump, now how changed! + Ah! that god, that bad god! + Inexpressibly bad, my child! + + * * * * * + + Thou hast entered the expanse; + And wilt visit 'the land of red parrot feathers,' + Where O[=a]rangi was once a guest. + Thou feedest now on ocean spray, + And sippest fresh water out of the rocks, + Travelling over rugged cliffs, + To the music of murmuring billows. + Thy exile spirit is overtaken + By darkness at the ocean's edge. + Fourapapa[3] there sleeps. All three[4] + Stood awhile to gaze wistfully + At the glories of the setting sun." + +There is much more, but this is perhaps sufficient to show the +particular note struck. + +I will give, in its entirety, one more dirge--the death-chant of the +tribe of Badagas, in the Neilgherry Hills--because it is unique, so +far as I know, in reversing the rule _de mortius_, and in charging, +instead, the dead man with every sin, to make sure that none are +omitted of which he is actually guilty. It is accompanied by a +singular ceremony. An unblemished buffalo-calf is led into the midst +of the mourners, and as after each verse they catch up and repeat the +refrain, "It is a sin!" the performer of the dirge lays his hand upon +the calf, to which the guilt is transferred. At the end the calf is +let loose; like the Jewish scape-goat, it must be used for no secular +work; it bears the sins of a human being, and is sacred till death. +The English version is by Mr C. E. Gover, who has done so much for the +preservation of South-Indian folk-songs. + + INVOCATION. + + In the presence of the great Bassava, + Who sprang from Banigé the holy cow. + + The dead has sinned a thousand times. + E'en all the thirteen hundred sins + That can be done by mortal men + May stain the soul that fled to-day. + Stay not their flight to God's pure feet. + Chorus--Stay not their flight. + + He killed the crawling snake + Chorus--It is a sin. + + The creeping lizard slew. + It is a sin. + + Also the harmless frog. + It is a sin. + Of brothers he told tales. + It is a sin. + The landmark stone he moved. + It is a sin. + Called in the Sircar's aid.[5] + It is a sin. + Put poison in the milk. + It is a sin. + To strangers straying on the hills, + He offered aid but guided wrong. + It is a sin. + His sister's tender love he spurned + And showed his teeth to her in rage. + It is a sin. + He dared to drain the pendent teats + Of holy cow in sacred fold. + It is a sin. + The glorious sun shone warm and bright + He turned its back towards its beams.[6] + It is a sin. + Ere drinking from the babbling brook, + He made no bow of gratitude. + It is a sin. + His envy rose against the man + Who owned a fruitful buffalo. + It is a sin. + He bound with cords and made to plough + The budding ox too young to work. + It is a sin. + While yet his wife dwelt in his house + He lusted for a younger bride. + It is a sin. + The hungry begged--he gave no meat, + The cold asked warmth--he lent no fire. + It is a sin. + He turned relations from his door, + Yet asked unworthy strangers home. + It is a sin. + The weak and poor called for his aid, + He gave no alms, denied their woe. + It is a sin. + When caught by thorns, in useless rage + He tore his cloth from side to side. + It is a sin. + The father of his wife sat on the floor + Yet he reclined on bench or couch. + It is a sin. + He cut the bund around a tank, + Set free the living water's store. + It is a sin. + + What though he sinned so much, + Or that his parents sinned? + What though the sins' long score + Was thirteen hundred crimes? + O let them every one, + Fly swift to Bas'va's feet. + Chorus--Fly swift. + + The chamber dark of death + Shall open to his soul. + The sea shall rise in waves; + Surround on every side, + But yet that awful bridge + No thicker than a thread, + Shall stand both firm and strong. + The dragon's yawning mouth + Is shut--it brings no fear. + The palaces of heaven + Throw open wide their doors. + Chorus--Open wide their doors. + + The thorny path is steep, + Yet shall his soul go safe. + The silver pillar stands + So near--he touches it. + He may approach the wall + The golden wall of heaven. + The burning pillar's flame + Shall have no heat for him. + Chorus--Shall have no heat. + + Oh let us never doubt + That all his sins are gone, + That Bassava forgives. + May it be well with him! + Chorus--May it be well! + Let all be well with him! + Chorus--Let all be well. + +Surely an impressive burial service to have been found in use amongst +a poor little obscure tribe of Indian mountaineers! + +It cannot be said that this moral attitude is often reached. Research +into funeral rites, of whatever nature, confronts us with much that +would be ludicrous were it not so very pitiful, for humanity has +displayed a fatal tendency to rush into the committal of ghastly +absurdities by way of showing the most sacred kind of grief. Yet, take +them all in all, the death laments of the people form a striking and +beautiful manifestation of such homage as "Life may give for love to +death." + + [Footnote 1: "Calling the dead" was without doubt once general + amongst all classes--which may be true of all the customs that + we are now inclined to associate with only the very poor. In + the striking mediæval ceremonial performed at the entombment + of King Alfonso in the vault at the Escurial, the final act + was that of the Lord Chamberlain, who unlocked the coffin, and + in the midst of profound silence shouted into the king's ear, + "Señor, Señor, Señor." After which he rose, saying, "His + majesty does not answer. Then it is true the king is dead."] + + [Footnote 2: The child's "personal fate."] + + [Footnote 3: The brother.] + + [Footnote 4: A little sister had died before.] + + [Footnote 5: He had recourse to the Rajahs, whose courts under + the old régime, had become a byeword for oppression and + corruption.] + + [Footnote 6: Compare _Inferno_, Canto vii.] + + + + +BOOKS OF REFERENCE. + + + Alecsandri, Vasile. Poesii Populare ale Romanilor. 1867. + + ---- Les Doïnas. Poésies Moldaves. 1855. + + Alexander, Francesca. Roadside Songs of Tuscany (in ten parts, + edited by John Ruskin, LL.D.). 1885. + + Arbaud, Damase. Chants Populaires de la Provence. 2 vols 1864. + + Armana Provençau. 1870. + + Avolio, Corrado. Canti Popolari di Noto. 1875. + + Bernoni, Dom. Giuseppe. Canti Populari Veneziani. 1873. + + ---- Preghiere Populari Veneziane. 1873. + + ---- Leggende Fantastiche Populari Veneziane. 1873. + + Bladé, J. Poésies Populaires de la Gascogne. 3 vols. + + Boullier, Auguste. Le Dialecte et les Chants Populaires de la + Sardaigne. 1864. + + Burton, Richard. Wit and Wisdom from West Arica. 1865. + + Cardona, Enrico. Dell' Antica Letteratura Catalana. 1878. + + Champfleury. Chansons Populaires des Provinces de France. + 1860. + + Comparetti, Prof. D. Saggi de' Dialetti Greci dell' Italia + Meridionale. 1866. + + Constantinescu, Dr B. Probe de Limba si Literatura Tiganilor + din Romania. 1878. + + Dalmedico, A. Canti del Popolo di Chioggia. 1872. + + ---- Ninne-Nanne e Giuochi Infantile Veneziani. 1871. + + Davies, William. The Pilgrimage of the Tiber. 1874. (Popular + Songs of the Tiberine District.) + + D'Ancona, Prof. A. Origini del Teatro in Italia. 2 vols. 1877. + + ---- La Poesia Popolare Italiana. 1878. + + Day, Rev. Lal Behari. Folk-Tales of Bengal. 1883. + + Dorsa, Prof. V. La Tradizione Greco-Latina negli usi e nelle + Credenze Popolari della Calabria Citeriore. 2d Ed. 1884. + + Dozon, Auguste. Poésies Populaires Serbes. 1859. ---- Chansons + Populaires Bulgares Inédites. 1875. + + Dumersan et Colet. Chants et Chansons Populaires de la France. + + Fauriel, C. Chansons Populaires de la Grèce. 2 vols. 1824. + + Ferraro, Dr G. Canti Popolari Monferrini. 1870. + + Fissore, G. Canti Popolari dell' Allemagna. 1857. + + Flugi, Alfons von. Die Volkslieder des Engadin. 1873. + + Gill, Rev. W.W. Myths and Songs from the South Pacific. 1876. + + Gonzenbach, Laura. Sicilianische Märchen. 1870. + + Gover, Charles E. The Folk-Songs of Southern India. 1872. + + Grimm, Jacob. Deutsche Mythologie. Vierte Ausgabe Besorgt von + Elard Hugo Meyer. 3 vols. 1875-7-8. + + Gubernatis, Conte A. de. Storia Comparata degli usi Natalizi + in Italia e presso gli altri Popoli Indo-Europei. 1878. + + Imbriani, V., and Casetti, A. Canti Popolari delle Provincie + Meridionali. 2 vols. 1871. + + Issaverdenz, Dr G. Armenian Popular Songs. 1867. + + Ive, Antonio. Canti Popolari Istriani. 1877. + + Kolberg, Oskar. Pièsni Luder Polskiego. 1857. + + Kuhff, Prof. P. Les Enfantines du "Bon Pays de France." 1878. + + Latham, R.G. The Nationalities of Europe (Estonian Poetry). + 1863. + + Leger, Louis. Chants Héroïques et Chansons Populaires des + Slaves de Bohême. 1866. + + Lizio-Bruno, Prof. Canti Popolari delle Isole Eolie. 1871. + + Mandalari, Mario. Canti del Popolo Reggino. 1881. + + Marcellus, C^te de. Chants Populaires de la Grèce Moderne. + 1860. + + Marcoaldi, Oreste. Canti Popolari inediti. 1855. + + Marmier, X. Chants Populaires du Nord. 1842. + + Moncaut, Cénac. Littérature Populaire de la Gascogne. 1868. + + Morosi, Dr Giuseppe. Studi sui Dialetti Greci della Terra + d'Otranto, 1870. + + ---- I Dialetti Romaici del Dialetto di Bova in Calabria. + 1874. + + Nerucci, G. Sessanta Novelle Popolari Montalesi. 1880. + + Nigra, Conte Constantino. Canzone Popolari del Piemonte. + Rivista Contemporanea: fascicoli lxxiv. and lxxxvi. 1860-1. + + Nino, A. de. Usi Abruzzesi. 3 vols. 1879, 1881-3. + + + Ortoli, Frédéric. Les Contes Populaires de l'île de Corse. + 1883. + + + Pellegrini, Prof. Astorre. Il Dialetto Greco-Calabro di Bova. + 1880. + + ---- La Poesia di Bova. 1881. + + Pitrè, Cav. Dr Giuseppe. Studi di Poesia Popolare. 1872. + + ---- Biblioteca delle Tradizioni Popolari Siciliane. 13 vols. + + Ralston, W. R. S. The Songs of the Russian People. 1872. + + Righi, Ettore-Scipione. Canti Popolari Veronesi. 1863. + + Rink, Dr R. Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo. 1875. + + Rosa, Gabriele. Dialetti, Costumi e Tradizioni nelle Provincie + di Bergamo e di Brescia. Jerza edizione. 1870. + + Salomone-Marino, S. Canti Popolari Siciliani. 1867. + + Stokes, Maive. Indian Fairy Tales. 1880. + + Symonds, T. Addington. Sketches in Italy and Greece. + + (Popular Songs of Tuscany.) 1874. + + Thorpe, B. Northern Mythology. 1851. + + Tigri, G. Canti Popolari Toscani. Terza ediz. 1869. + + Tommaseo, N. Canti Popolari Toscani, Corsi, Illirici, Greci. + 1841. + + +TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. + + + + * * * * * + + +Transcriber's Note: + +This book contains some dialect and/or older grammatical constructions, +some old French (and bits of other languages), which have all been +retained. + +For example: + +Footnote 2, Page l (from p. xvii): + "Sire cuens," + ... + "C'est vilanie;" ('T was villany:) + ... + "Ma feme ne me rit mie." + ... + "Vez com vostre male plie, + Ele est bien de vent farsie." + ... + Deux chapons por deporter + A la sause aillie; + etc. + + +Page 20: 'the girl leaning out of window to tell her piece of news' is +as printed. The transcriber does not know if 'a window' or 'the window' +or just 'window' was intended. + +Page 24: 'Nella' would be the genitive of 'Nello'. +In some European languages, the Proper nouns are also declined. +["... it is Count Nello, my father, he who fain would wed +me." "Who speaks of Count Nella...."] + +Page 145: "E te' ccà 'na timpulata!" occurs in another document as: +"E te 'ccà 'na timpulata!", and in another as "E te' 'ccà 'na timpulata!" + +Many French accents are missing from the English text, e.g. +Page 181: "Mistral ... paints the Provence of the valley of the Rhone, ..." + +Page 335: 'compact' is correct; = 'agreement'. +(Apparently she took the advice and kept the compact) + +Page 348: "nni" in "Lu mè rifugiu nni la sorti orrenna," is as printed. +It may not be an error. + + +This book also contains some Greek words, and passages of Greek. +which have been transliterated into Latin text, e.g. [Greek: nênitos] + + +Errata: + +Sundry damaged or missing punctuation has been repaired. + +Page 62: 'portait' corrected to 'portrait'. +(he might at least possess his portrait). + +Page 84: 'befel' corrected to 'befell'. +(the fate that befell a French professorship of Armenian) + +Page 172: 'hushand' corrected to 'husband'. +(and shortly after her husband had extricated her she became a mother). + +Page 226: 'daugher' corrected to 'daughter'. +("And a cup of poison, my daughter.") + +Page 335: 'compact' is correct. = 'agreement'. +(Apparently she took the advice and kept the compact,) + +Page 335: n[~i]na corrected to niña. +(A dormir va mi niña). + +Page 337: "wee Willie Winkile" corrected to "wee Willie Winkie" +("wee Willie Winkie" who runs upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown:) + +Page 341: 'cardle' corrected to 'cradle'. +(aunt has taken baby from his cradle) + +Page 343: 'The' corrected to 'They'. +(They are often called "certi signuri,") + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Essays in the Study of Folk-Songs +(1886), by Countess Evelyn Martinengo-Cesaresco + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS IN THE STUDY OF *** + +***** This file should be named 36222-8.txt or 36222-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/2/2/36222/ + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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