'Clerk Saunders' was first given to the world in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 33, 1802, and was there said to be "taken from Mr. Herd's Manuscript, with several corrections from a shorter and more imperfect copy in the same volume, and one or two conjectural emendations in the arrangement of the stanzas." Sir Walter arranged his ballad with much good taste, but this account of his dealing with Herd's copies is very far from precisely accurate. A, the longer of these, does not end, as here printed, with Margret's refusal to be comforted, a rather unsufficing conclusion it must be owned. The story is continued by annexing the ballad of 'Sweet William's Ghost,' the lack of which in B makes Scott call that version imperfect. This sequel, found also in F, is omitted here, and will be given in the proper place.[foot-note] Jamieson's, F, as well as Scott's, is a made-up copy, "the stanzas where the seven brothers are introduced" having been "enlarged from two fragments, which, although very defective in themselves, furnished lines which, when incorporated with the text, seemed to improve it." About one half of G is taken from Herd's Manuscripts, with trivial alterations. The ghostly visitation at the end blends 'Proud Lady Margaret' with 'Sweet William's Ghost,' and this conclusion, not being worth transferring, has been allowed to stand.[foot-note] The dream in E 13 may be derived from 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William.'
The austerities vowed in D 13-15, E 17-20, found also in A 20-22, G 23-25, make a very satisfactory termination to the tragedy, and supply a want that may be felt in B, and in A as it stands here. The like are found in, 'The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford,' 'Bonny Bee Ho'm,' 'Lord Livingston,' 'The Weary Coble o Cargill,' and 'The Lowlands of Holland.' Also in the French ballad of 'La Biche Blanche,' where a brother, having unwittingly been the death of his sister, who was maid by day but hind by night, vows himself to a seven years' penance:
or,
Vaugeois, Histoire des Antiquités de la Ville de l'Aigle, p. 585, repeated in Bosquet, La Normandie Romanesque, p. 83, Beaurepaire, Poésie p. en Normandie, p. 78; Haupt, Französische Volkslieder, p. 20, Souvestre, in Revue des Deux Mondes, 1849, Avril, p. 106, and Les Derniers Paysans, p. 36, ed. 1871.
The king, in 'Kong Valdemar og hans Søster,' Grundtvig, No 126, A, B, C, will live in a dark house where he shall never see fire nor light, nor shall the sun ever shine on him, till he has expiated his monstrous cruelty to his sister.
So the marquis, in the Romance del Marques de Mantua, swears, till he has avenged the death of Valdovinos,
Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, No 165, II, 192.
F, Jamieson's version, connects 'Clerk Saunders' with a Scandinavian ballad,[foot-note] which seems to be preserved in abbreviated and sometimes perverted forms, also by other races. Full forms of this Northern ballad are:
Icelandic, 'Ólöfar kvaeði,' eigbt versions, A-H, Íslenzk Fornkvæði, No 34, I, 332.
Färöe, ' Faðir og dottir,' communicated by Hammershaimb to the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, 1849-51, p. 88.
Norwegian, 'Far aa dótter,' Bugge, Gamle Norske Folkeviser, p. 1]5, A (with two fragments, B, C).
A father [king, Icelandic A-H] asks his daughter if she is ready to marry. She has no such thought.[foot-note] [She swore by God, by man, that she had never had the thought, had no private connection, was as clear as a nun; but nobody knew what was in her mind: Färöe.] Who, then, he asks, is the fair knight that rode to your bower? No fair knight, but one of her knaves. Whose was that horse I saw at your door? It was no horse, but a hind from the fell. Who was that fair knight you kissed at the spring? It was no knight, but her maid that she kissed. Does her maid wear a sword at her side? It was no sword, but a bunch of keys. Does her maid wear spurs? It was no spurs, but gold on her shoes. Has her maid short hair? Her plaits were coiled on her head. Does she wear short clothes, like men? Maids hold up their coats when there is a dew. What babe was crying in her chamber? It was no babe, but her dog. What was that cradle standing by her bed? It was no cradle, but her little silk-loom.
In the Färöe ballad the father then rides to the wood, meets a knight, cuts him in two, hangs his foot, hand, and bead to his saddle, and returns. Do you know this foot? he asks. It has often found the way to her chamber. Do you know this hand? Many a night it has lain on her arm. Do you know this head? Many a kiss have the lips had. In the other versions these bloody tokens are produced on the spot, with a more startling effect. The daughter wishes a fire in her father's house, him in it, and herself looking on. Instantly a blaze bursts forth, the king is burnt up, and all that belongs to him. The daughter sets the fire herself in the Färöe and the Norwegian ballad. She dies of grief in Icelandic C, takes to the wood in E, F,[foot-note] goes into a cloister in D, G (cf. English C).
A briefer form of this same story is 'Den grymma Brodern,' Afzelius, No 86, III, 107. In this a brother takes the place of the father. After several questions be asks his sister if she knows the man's hand that hangs at his saddle. She bursts out into an exclamation of grief. 'Thore och hans Syster,' Arwidsson, No 55, I, 358,[foot-note] has lost its proper conclusion, for we have not come to the conclusion when the brother says that his sister's false inventions will never give out till the sea wants water, a comment which we also find in the Färöe ballad (where, however, it is misplaced). This is the case, also, with 'Det hurtige Svar,' Danske Viser, No 204, IV, 228* and 362, but in the Danish ballad a perversion towards the comic has begun, the end being:
In a Spanish and Portuguese romance a woman has received a lover in the absence of her husband. The husband returns before he is expected, and puts questions similar to those in the ballads already spoken of: whose horse, lance, sword, is this? whose spurs, whose arms are these? and is answered after the same fashion. There is considerable variety in the conclusion; the husband kills his wife, kills the paramour, kills both, both he and his rival lose their lives, the wife dies of fright, or is even pardoned. Spanish: 'De Blanca-Niña,' Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, No 136, II, 52; 'Romance del Conde Lombardo,' the same, No 136 a, II, 53; 'La adúltera castigada,' Milá, Romancerillo, No 254, A-M, pp 241-45; 'Lo retorn soptat,' Briz, IV, 183; Fernan Caballero, La Gaviota, p. 82, ed. Leipzig, 1868.[foot-note]
In an Illyrian ballad, husband, wife, and a young Clerk are the parties. Three watches are set to give notice of the husband's return, one in the field, one in the house-court, one before the chamber. They give due warning, but the woman, like Lady Barnard, in 'Little Musgrave,' will not heed. After some questions and evasions the husband strikes off her head: 'Nevérnost,' Vraz, Narodne Pésni Illirske, p. 72; 'Bestrafte Untreue,' A. Grun, Volkslieder aus Krain, p. 41.
Nothing could be easier than to give these questions, prevarications, and comments a humorous turn, and this is done in a large number of ballads: see 'Our Goodman came hame at een.'
The two ballads which immediately follow have connections with 'Clerk Saunders.'
Scott's copy is translated by Schubart, p. 79; Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 45, Hausschatz, p. 202; Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 13. F, in Afzelius, III, 110.
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