Chapter V · The Grateful Dead and The Ransomed Woman.

The most striking peculiarity of the variant is the loss of the burial, for which appears rather awkwardly the ransoming of some peasants on the hero’s second voyage. That substitution has occurred is apparent, however, both from the clumsiness of the device by which the original trait is replaced, and from the angel in the form of an old man, who takes the rôle of the ghost. It will be remembered that the same substitution has already been met with in the case of Tobit and Russian II.

In Lithuanian I. is found a variant which, as we shall find, is of a common type. A king’s son pays three hundred gold-pieces, all that he possesses, to release a dead man from his creditors and have him buried. The hero then becomes a merchant, and finds a princess on an island, whither she has been driven by a storm. He takes her to a city, where he makes his home, and marries her. A messenger, sent out by her father to seek her, arrives, takes them aboard ship, and pitches the hero into the sea in order to obtain the offered reward. He is saved by a man in a boat, who says that he is the ghost of the dead, and instructs him how to rejoin his bride. So everything ends happily.

The events as here related follow a very normal course, which is repeated again and again in stories of this type: a burial, a ransom, an act of treachery, a rescue by the ghost, and a happy reunion of the lovers. The agreement between the hero and the ghost, which is found in Servian I., and very frequently elsewhere, is lacking, however. A peculiarity of the variant is the change in status of the hero. He is a prince, but becomes a merchant, thus uniting the two characters given him in the other tales of this class.

Hungarian II. is in some respects more interesting than the variant just cited. A merchant’s son while in Turkey pays the debts and for the burial of a mistreated corpse. After returning home, he goes to England and rescues a French princess with her two maids, but by his cunning saves the gold that he has agreed to pay for them. At her bidding he goes to Paris and tells the king that she is safe. On his return to bring her to her home, where he is to marry her, he is placed on a desert island by a general who is enamoured of the princess. Thence he is rescued by an old man, the ghost of the dead, who takes him to the Continent. He goes to Paris, where he is recognized by the princess, when he drops a ring that she has given him into a beaker. When she comes to him in his room, he threatens to kill her if she does not go away; but when she agrees that he has the right to do so since he has saved her life, he says that his threat was only a test of loyalty. So the story ends happily.

The course of events is not very different from that of Lithuanian I., since the variant has all the normal elements save the agreement between the ghost and the hero. A peculiarity is the final scene in which the hero tests his lady. It will be evident, I think, that this is an obscured and modified form of the test to which the ghost elsewhere submits the hero, a test of fidelity likewise, though different in its nature.

In the Transylvanian variant, a merchant’s son while on a journey pays fifty florins, half of his capital, for the burial of a dead man. On a second journey he pays one hundred florins, again one-half of his store, for the ransom of a princess who has been imprisoned while out doing charity incognito. She gives him a ring and sends him to the castle, where her father turns him out of doors. He then meets an old man—the ghost—and promises him one-half of his gains after seven years for his help. He is then enabled to marry the princess, who recognizes him, at the castle by his ring. They have two children. When the old man comes back at the end of seven years, the hero gives up one of his children, and, after offering her whole, is ready to divide his wife. The old man renounces his claim, and disappears.

Every step in the narrative is here clearly marked, even to the conditional agreement with the ghost, which so frequently is wanting. The variant thus appears to be entirely normal as far as The Grateful Dead goes, though it does not have the rescue by the ghost—an important feature of The Ransomed Woman.

Trancoso, the work of a sixteenth century Portuguese story-teller, is even more consciously literary. It shows, besides, the tendency of the narrative to take on a religious colouring. The son of a Lusitanian merchant, while in Fez on a trading expedition, buys the relics of a Christian saint. In spite of his father’s anger, he does this a second time, and is so successful in retailing the bones that he is sent out a third time with instructions to buy as many relics as possible. On this expedition, however, he succeeds merely in ransoming a Christian girl, whom he takes home. At her request he carries to the King of England a piece of linen, on which she has embroidered the story of her adventures. He learns that she is the king’s daughter, and restores her to her father. Subsequently he wanders over Europe in despair, for he has hoped to marry the princess, till he meets with two minstrels, who accompany him to the English court. There he makes himself known to the princess by a song; and, by the aid of the two minstrels, he wins her hand in a tournament. Later the two friends reveal themselves as the saints whose bones he had rescued from the Moors.

Because of its legendary character the variant has been materially transformed, but not beyond recognition. The thankful dead is replaced by the saint throughout, so that the burial is altered into church building, and both the agreement and the division of the gains disappear. The various elements of The Ransomed Woman fare better: the act of treachery done the hero is the only one lacking, and that perhaps is replaced by his imprisonment in the Sultan’s castle. It is remarkable that the details of the narrative have been so little altered in spite of its complete change of purpose.

In the Gasconian folk-tale Jean du Boucau, the son of a mariner, goes to fight the corsairs. On the shore of the sea he rescues a man named Uartia, who is pretending death to escape from his creditors. Later this man becomes a prosperous freebooter, and is sailing with a load of captives when met again by Jean. The latter is so shocked by his evil deeds that he encloses him in the coffin prepared for him on the previous occasion, and throws him into the sea. Jean then marries the most beautiful of the captives, who is the daughter of the King of Bilbao.

The variant is excessively rationalized, it will be observed, and most traces of The Grateful Dead have disappeared. Though various substitutions for the burial are found in each of the groups, this is the only case that I know where the man plays ’possum to escape his creditors. The story is likewise unique in making the hero take vengeance on the man whom he has helped earlier, and accordingly in making him rescue the maiden from the hands of the person who is in the character of the thankful dead. The variant has been modified by a free fancy; yet its position in the group remains perfectly clear in spite of the loss of such traits as the agreement, the act of treachery, the rescue of the hero, and the division of the gains.

Straparola I., one of the Italian novelist’s two renderings of our theme, is far more normal than the above, and is probably based directly on a folk-story. Bertuccio pays one hundred ducats to free a corpse from a robber and bury it, greatly to his mother’s disgust. He goes out again with two hundred ducats, and pays them for the ransom of the daughter of the King of Navarre. His mother is still more angry. The princess is taken home to Navarre by officers of the court who have been searching for her, but first she tells Bertuccio to come to her, and to hold his hand to his head as a sign when he hears that she is to be married. On his way to Navarre he meets a knight who gives him a horse and clothing on condition of his returning them, together with half of his gains. He marries the princess, and is returning home, when he meets the knight again and offers to give up his wife whole rather than kill her by division. Whereupon the knight explains that he is the spirit of the dead, and resigns his claim.

All the traits previously mentioned are here evident save the act of treachery by which the hero comes near losing his bride. The sign appears as a means of communication between the lovers, as in Transylvanian and elsewhere. The question of division is simply a matter of fulfilling a bargain, but it shows how easily by a slight shift of emphasis the test of loyalty could be made the important element.

None of the Italian folk variants, which I know, conforms to the above closely enough to be regarded as a near relative. Istrian, however, belongs in the same category. A youth called Fair Brow sets out to trade with six thousand scudi, which he pays to bury a debtor on the shore, for whom passers-by are giving alms. On his return home, he tells his father that he has been robbed, and again is sent out with six thousand scudi. He pays these for a maiden, who has been stolen from the Sultan, and he is consequently disowned by his father. After his marriage to the girl, the young couple live by the sale of the wife’s paintings. Some sailors of the Sultan see these, and carry the lady off home. Fair Brow goes fishing with an old man whom he meets by the sea. They are driven by a storm to Turkey, and are sold to the Sultan as slaves, but they escape with the wife and considerable treasure. The old man then asks for a division of the property, even of the woman. When the hero offers him three-quarters of the wealth in order to keep the woman, the old man declares that he is the ghost, and disappears.

All of the essential traits, except the preliminary agreement and the rescue of the hero, are here clearly marked. The latter is, indeed, probably accounted for by the storm which the hero and the ghost encounter together. The fact that the young couple live by the sale of the wife’s handiwork, and that this in some way or other leads to her restoration to her parents or earlier connections, is an important feature of The Ransomed Woman, being found clearly in the Wendish tale as well as in many variants of the compound type.

Gaelic is an interesting example of the theme. Iain, the son of a Barra widow, becomes the master of a ship and goes to Turkey, where he pays the debts of a dead Christian and buries the corpse. He ransoms a Christian maiden, the daughter of the King of Spain, with her servant, on the same journey, and takes her back to England, together with much gold. At her advice he goes to Spain and attends church, where the king recognizes by his clothing, his ring, his book, and his whistle that he has news of the lost princess. Iain then returns to England for the maiden, whom he is to marry. While going with her to Spain he is left on a desert island by a general, who has secreted himself on the ship; but after a time he is rescued by a man in a boat, to whom he promises half of his wife and of his children, if he shall have any. In Spain the princess, who has gone mad, recognizes him when he plays his whistle. So they are married, and the general burned. When three sons have been born, the rescuer appears and asks for his share; but as soon as Iain accedes he declares himself to be the ghost, and disappears.

This tale, like Nicholas, has been dressed up as a legend, chiefly in the praise of St. Corentin, with the result that the elements are confused. The burial, however, persists, though the ransoming of the woman has been feebly replaced by the aid of the saint and the Virgin. The hero is cast into the sea by an avaricious uncle of the bride, again a weakened trait. The rescue and the agreement to divide are normal in essentials, though adorned with superfluous miracles, as is again the conclusion of the tale. It illustrates how easily such a narrative may be adapted, whether consciously or not, to a religious purpose. The division of the child, which comes in question, is of precisely the same character as in Gaelic; it does not imply the presence of a new motive, though it indicates the possibility of a new combination.

Icelandic II. is similar to the variant just cited in several particulars, though it has important differences. Vilhjálmur, a merchant’s son, loses his property and becomes the servant of twelve robbers. In their den he finds a princess named Ása hanging by the hair. He escapes with her by sea, taking along the thieves’ treasure. This he pays to have the body of a debtor buried. To the haven where this happens comes Rauður in search of the princess, takes the couple on his ship, but puts the hero to sea in a rudderless boat. A man appears to Vilhjálmur in a dream, saying that he is the ghost of the man whom he has buried, and that he will bring him to land and show him treasure. So the hero is brought to the land of the princess and tells his story at the wedding of the traitor with the princess. Thus the bride is won for him.

The hero, it will be observed, is a merchant instead of a prince, as in Icelandic I., and the burial of the dead is customary in form though exceptionally placed in the narrative. Otherwise the two variants correspond rather closely, even in such a detail as the name of the traitor. There is the same omission of elements peculiar to The Grateful Dead, the same preponderance of the secondary motive, found in all the northern versions of this particular group. The two Icelandic variants seem to be perfectly distinct, though they are nearly related.

The two German folk-tales which fall into this group are not very different from one another. In Simrock IV. a merchant’s son pays the debts of a man who is being devoured by dogs, but does not succeed in saving his life. He goes on, finds two maidens exposed on a rock, and takes them home. In spite of his father’s objections, he marries one of them. He goes to sea again, wearing a ring that his wife has given him, and carrying a flag marked with her name. Coming to the royal court of her father, he is sent back for the princess with a minister. On his voyage to court again he is put overboard by the minister, who hopes thus to win the princess. However, he is cast up on an island, where the ghost of the dead man appears to him in sleep and transports him miraculously to court. There he is recognized by his ring and reunited to his wife.

Details such as those concerning the burial, the rescue of the lady, and the help given miraculously by the ghost mark the independence of the variant, though they do not alter the normal course of the narrative. As so often in this group, the agreement with the ghost and the division are entirely lacking.

In Simrock VI. the variations from the normal are even slighter. Heinrich of Hamburg buys a beautiful maiden in a foreign land. On the sea-coast, when he is returning home with her, he pays the debts of a corpse and has it buried. He wishes to marry the girl, but she asks that he delay the wedding for a year and make a journey first. So she gives him two coffers, with which he crosses the sea. By the help of a shipman he finds his betrothed’s royal father, but on his way back to fetch her home is cast overboard by the mariner, who is the original kidnapper of the maiden. This man gets her and carries her to the court with the hope of marrying her. The hero is saved from the sea, however, by the ghost of the dead man, who brings him to the garden of the princess’s palace, where he is found by his bride.

The three variants with the simple compound, or forming a group on that basis, are those entered in the bibliography as Lope de Vega, Calderon, and Oliver.

The position of the play by Lope de Vega is involved with that of Oliver. Don Juan de Castro flees to England because of the unlawful love of his stepmother, the Princess of Galicia. His ship is wrecked on the English coast, and the captain, Tibaldo, is cast ashore in a dying condition. To free the latter’s mind from unrest, Don Juan pays his debts of two thousand ducats, though this is half of the hero’s possessions. He hears that the princess Clarinda is promised to anyone of princely blood who wins an approaching tournament. While he is sorrowful that he cannot enter the contest, because of his poverty, the ghost of Tibaldo appears to him one night and promises the necessary equipment on condition of receiving one-half the gains. The next morning he finds everything ready and wins the princess. He is later taken prisoner by one of the contestants through a ruse, and is carried off to Ireland. By the ghost’s advice, his stepbrother and double comes to London and takes his place, while Don Juan is freed by force of arms and restored to his wife. After some years, when the couple have two children, the stepbrother falls ill of a dreadful malady, which can only be cured, Don Juan learns in a dream, by the blood of his children. So he slays them and gives their blood to the sick man to drink. They are found alive by a miracle; but Don Juan is troubled, and does not find rest till the ghost appears and tells him that the only remedy for his affliction is to fulfil his promise of a division. The hero prepares to divide his wife, when the ghost stops him and explains that the demand was only a test.

The play El mejor amigo el muerto, listed for convenience as Calderon, has suffered, in contrast to Lope’s play, from many changes. Prince Robert of Ireland and Don Juan de Castro are wrecked on the English coast. The former finds the sea-captain Lidoro in a dying condition, and refuses to give him aid. Don Juan, on the other hand, finds Lidoro’s body, which a creditor keeps from interment, and pays for his burial out of his scanty savings from the wreck. He then goes to London, where there is trouble because Queen Clarinda will not marry Prince Robert. Don Juan is cast into prison on a false charge, his identity being unknown to the queen, though he is recognized by Robert. He is saved by the aid of Lidoro’s ghost, nevertheless, lays siege for Clarinda’s hand, overcomes Robert, and so becomes king of England.

The correspondence of names and details makes it clear that the source of this play is Lope de Vega, though the plot has been modified in several features. In the process of adaptation all trace of The Two Friends has dropped out, a fact which would make the position of the variant difficult to ascertain, had the authors not left most of the characters their original names. The change in the position of the rescue of the hero from prison, indeed, gives a specious resemblance to the normal type The Grateful Dead + The Ransomed Woman, which is quite unjustified by the real state of the case.

All the traits of the compound type, as it has already been analyzed, are here apparent, save that the sacrifice of the child is substituted for that of the wife. The variant does not demand any further comment.

We come now to the various forms of Jean de Calais, which make up a little group by themselves. The ten examples of the story that I have been able to find differ from one another sufficiently to make separate analyses of most of them necessary.

This story has all the characteristics of the type The Grateful Dead + The Ransomed Woman + the demand that the hero’s son be divided. In general outline it is scarcely distinguishable from Lithuanian II., save that the hero Jean is a merchant’s son instead of a prince. In details, however, it differs considerably. For example, Jean marries one of the captive maidens as soon as he buys her; there is no question of signs by which the hero is recognized by his wife’s father or by the princess herself; and the ghost is less dilatory in his demands. Some of these differences are doubtless to be accounted for through the unfaithfulness of the rendering, which is semi-literary.

Jean de Calais VI., though from Brittany instead of southern France, does not differ greatly from the above, nor from I. Jean buries the dead man and ransoms two women on a single voyage, as in I. He is kindly received at home in spite of his extravagance, in which the variant differs from III., IV., and V., and he marries one of the maidens there. On his next voyage the King of Portugal (as in I. and III.) recognizes his daughter’s portrait and that of her maid, which the hero has displayed on his ship. He brings his wife to the court, after which they go back, together with a former suitor, for their possessions. On the voyage Jean is thrown overboard, but is washed up on an island, whither the ghost comes, announces himself immediately, and bargains rescue for half of the hero’s child. Jean is transported to court miraculously, and there meets with the customary adventures at the close of the tale.

The variant is chiefly peculiar, it will be remarked, in placing the treachery of the former suitor after the marriage has been recognized by the king, and in making the ghost announce himself at once. Jean makes no blind bargain, a fact which detracts somewhat from the interest.

Version VII. has certain characteristics in common with the above. It is a Basque tale. Juan de Kalais, the son of a widow, sets off as a merchant, but sells his cargo and ship to pay the debts of a corpse, which is being dragged about on a dung-heap. On his return, his mother is angry. Again he goes on a voyage, but with a very poor ship, and is compelled by an English captain to ransom a beautiful maiden with all his cargo. The hero’s mother is again angry at this seemingly bad bargain, but she does not forbid his marrying the girl. Juan is now sent to Portugal by his wife with a portrait on a flag, a handkerchief, and a ring. At the same time she tells him that she has been called Marie Madeleine. When the King of Portugal sees the portrait, he sends the hero back with a general to fetch Marie, who is his daughter. The general pitches Juan overboard and goes for the princess, whom he persuades to marry him after seven years. At the end of that time, a fox comes to Juan on an island, where he has lived, and bargains to rescue him for half of all he has at present and will have later. The hero arrives in Portugal, is recognized by the king, tells his story, and has the general burned. After a year the fox appears and demands payment, but, when Juan is going to divide his child, it says that it is the soul of the dead man whom he buried long before.

Jean de Calais VIII., though like VI. from a Breton source, differs from all the other variants, chiefly in transposing the burial and the ransom. Jean Carré, sent out by his godmother as a sea-captain, ransoms an English princess with her maid, and marries the former. After two years, when a son has been born to them, Jean goes on another voyage, and adorns the stern of his vessel with portraits of his wife, the child, and the maid, which he is begged to show while anchored at London. He does so, and is received by the king as a son-in-law. One day he sees a poor debtor’s body dragged along the street, pays the debts, and has it buried. He then sets out with a fleet to seek his wife, and is cast overboard by a Jew, who is the pilot; but he is saved by a supernatural man, who carries him to a green rock in the sea. The princess refuses to go to England when the fleet arrives, and is wooed by the Jew so persistently that after two years she promises him marriage. At this juncture Jean, who has been asleep during the whole interval, is awakened by his rescuer and carried over the sea, where the man explains that he is the ghost of the debtor. Jean is first recognized by his little son, the Jew is burned by the gendarmes, and all ends well.

The transposition mentioned above is clearly a change due to the individual narrator or some local predecessor, since everywhere else the burial takes place before the ransom. The mention of a Jew as traitor is also peculiar and unreasonable, since no motive for his action appears until later, and then incongruously. The variant is likewise defective in not having any bargain between the ghost and the hero. In other respects it is normal save in minor details. As in V., the heroine is made an English princess, which occurs nowhere else. On the whole the version is picturesque, but defective.

Jean de Calais IX. is unique in certain features, though in most respects normal. It is from Asturia in Spain. Juan de Calais goes out into the world to seek his fortune with a single peseta as his store. This he gives to bury a corpse, and proceeds. In a certain kingdom he attracts the notice of a princess, who marries him after considerable opposition. When the wedding is over, he takes his wife to seek his father’s blessing, but is cast off the ship by a former suitor of the lady, her cousin. He is carried to an island by invisible hands, where he lives until a phantom bargains to take him to court for half of what he gets by his marriage. He arrives on the day of the princess’s wedding. He is recognized by the king, who puts to his guests a parable of an old key found just when a new one has been made, while the suitor flees. On the following night, when Juan is dejected at the thought of giving up half his son, the phantom appears and releases him from his agreement, explaining its identity.

Juan wins the gratitude of the dead man, and obtains his bride in this version on a single journey, as in I. and VI., but its chief peculiarity is the manner in which he gets his wife, with the sequel that the couple set out to seek his father instead of hers. The ransom is replaced by a romantic but more natural wooing, while the ghost appears somewhat unusually in propria persona. One of the oddest traits in the whole version is the parable of the key, by which the king introduces the hero to the assembled guests. This will be encountered again in Breton VII.

In Jean de Calais X., finally, a Walloon variant, appear certain interesting changes in the fabric. The King of Calais sent his son Jean to America to trade, but the prince was shipwrecked on the coast of Portugal, and there ransomed and rescued a corpse, which was being dragged through the streets because the man had died in debt. The king scolded his son for wasting so much money, but the next year sent him to Portugal to trade. There he encountered brigands, who had captured the king’s daughter with her maid, and ransomed them. On returning to Calais with his bride, he was ill received, and resolved to go back to Portugal. A young lord of Calais accompanied them and threw Jean into the sea, while he took the princess onward and obtained from her a promise of marriage in a year. Happily Jean found a plank by which he reached an island, where a crow fed him every day. At the end of a year he promised the crow half his blood for rescue, and was taken to Portugal by a flock of crows. There he was recognized, and the traitor hanged. One day the crow appeared and demanded the fulfilment of the promise. Jean was about to slay his son, when the bird explained its identity with the ghost of the dead man.

This is the only version which makes Jean a prince; and it is curious that the change should occur in a tale from a region not very remote from Calais. Most of the events of the tale take place in Portugal, however, which is an extension of the ordinary appearance of that country as the home of the heroine. The most striking peculiarity of the version is the home of the traitor, who is a lord of Calais instead of Portugal. All mention of signs is lacking, which is doubtless due to the changes just mentioned. In the matter of the appearance of the ghost as an animal the variant allies itself with II. and VII., though it has no special likeness to them in other respects.

In Breton VII. a normal form appears, though with some embroidery of details. A merchant’s son, Iouenn Kerménou, goes out with his father’s ship to trade. He pays the greater part of the proceeds of the cargo to ransom and bury the corpse of a debtor, which dogs are devouring. On his way home he gives the rest of his money to ransom a princess, who is being carried to a ravaging serpent, which has to be fed with a royal princess every seven years. He is cast off by his father when he reaches home, but is supported by an aunt and enabled to marry his lady. After a son has been born to them, he is sent out by an uncle on another ship, which by his wife’s counsel has the figure of himself and herself with their child carved on the prow. He comes to her father’s realm, and after some misunderstanding is sent back with two ministers of state for the princess. While returning with her, he is pushed overboard by the first minister, who is an old suitor for the lady’s hand, but swims ashore on a desert island. The wife goes to court, and after three years consents to marry the minister. All this time Iouenn lives alone on his rock, but at the end is greeted by the ghost of the man whose body he buried, which appears in a very horrible form. On condition of giving in a year and a day half of what he and his wife possess, he is taken to court by this being, where he is recognized by means of a gold chain, which the princess had given him. At the wedding feast, which takes place that day, the wife recounts a parable of how she has found the old key of a coffer just as a new one was ready, brings in Iouenn, and has the minister burned. At the end of a year and a day comes the ghost, and demands half of the child (the older one has died) that has been born to them. As the hero reluctantly proceeds to divide the child, the ghost stops him, praises his fidelity, and disappears.

Simrock I. introduces still another complication in the way of compounds. A merchant’s son on a journey secures proper burial for a black Turkish slave, thereby using all his money. His father is angry with him on his return. On his second voyage he ransoms a maiden and is cast off by his father when he reaches home. The young couple live for a time on the proceeds from the sale of the wife’s handiwork, but after a little set off to the court of her father, who is a king. On the way they meet one of the king’s ships, and go aboard. The hero is cast into the sea by the captain, but is saved by a black fellow and brought back to the ship. Again he is cast overboard. When the princess arrives at home, she agrees to marry whoever can paint three rooms to her liking. The hero, meanwhile, is again saved by the black man, and in return for the promise of his first child on its twelfth birthday he is given the power of obtaining his wishes. After a year and a day he is taken to court by his friend, where by wishing he paints the three rooms, the third with the story of his life. So he is recognized. On the twelfth birthday of his first child the black man comes to him and is offered the boy, but instead of taking him explains his identity.

Simrock VIII. differs from the above in only two points. The beginning states that a merchant while in Turkey pays the debts and burial expenses of a poor man. On his next voyage he buys three hundred slaves from the Emperor of Constantinople. Three of them he keeps at his home, one of whom he marries. The further adventures of the hero agree with Simrock II. even in names and most details, except that the hero is recognized at the court by dropping his ring in a cup of tea, which the princess gives him to drink. It will be evident that the two tales are nearly related.

Last, but not least interesting of the versions in which the child appears, is the Factor’s Garland or Turkey Factor, which must have been almost as well known in England at one time as the form of the story in Jack the Giant-Killer. It has no very remarkable features in its outline. A young Englishman, while acting as a factor in Turkey, pays fifty pounds to have the body of a Christian buried. A little later he pays one hundred pounds to ransom a beautiful Christian slave, and takes her back to his home, where he makes her his house-keeper. Later he sets out again, and is told by the woman to wear a silk waistcoat that she has embroidered, when he comes to the court whither he is bound. The work is recognized by her father, the emperor, and the factor sent back to fetch her. While returning with the princess, he is pushed overboard in his sleep by the captain, but swims to an island, whence he is rescued by an old man in a canoe, who bargains with him for his first-born son when three (or thirty) months old. The hero is recognized at court and marries the princess, while the captain dies by suicide. In two (or three) years the old man returns, just when the couple’s son is three (or thirty) months old, and demands the child. On the hero’s yielding, he explains that he is the ghost, and disappears.

The variants which introduce the division of the child have now all been considered. It is necessary to turn to a few scattered specimens in which the compound, The Grateful Dead + The Ransomed Woman, has been joined with other material.

Bohemian is a curious and instructive example of the confusion which has resulted from welding various themes together. Bolemir, a merchant’s son, is sent to sea, where he is robbed by pirates and imprisoned. He finds means to help an old man, who gives him a magic flute, and a princess, who gives him half of her veil and ring. By the aid of the flute he succeeds in winning the chief’s permission to leave the island in the company of his friends. He sails with them to another island. There, at the old man’s request, he strikes him on the head and buries him. He then goes home with the princess. On his second voyage he displays from his mast-head a golden standard, which the princess has made. He reaches the city of the lady’s father, tells his story, and returns for the princess with the chamberlain. While they are all returning together, he is cast into the sea by the chamberlain, who takes the woman to court and obtains a promise of marriage, when a church has been built to her mind. Bolemir is saved from the sea by the ghost of the old man, and is given a wishing ring. He turns himself into an eagle and flies to court, into an old man and becomes a watchman at the church. By means of his ring he builds the structure, and paints it with the story of his life. At the wedding breakfast of the princess, who cannot longer delay the bridal, he tells his story, and so marries her.

Simrock III. has several points of contact with the above. Karl, the son of an English merchant, on his first voyage to Italy pays the debts of a merchant who has died bankrupt. On his way home he buys two sisters from some pirates at an inn. His father casts him off, so he marries the older of the maidens, who tells him that she is a princess. They start for Italy together, and on the way meet an Italian prince, who is a suitor for the wife’s hand. The hero is cast overboard, but is brought to land by a great bird, which tells him that it is the ghost of the man whom he has buried. It directs him to go to court and give himself out as a painter. The bird again comes to him there with a dagger in its beak, and tells him to cut off its head. Unwillingly Karl obeys, and sees before him the spirit of the dead man. The ghost paints the room in which they are standing with the hero’s history. So on the wedding-day of the princess with the traitor, Karl explains the meaning of the pictures and wins his bride again.

Simrock VII., together with some other peculiarities, again has the feat of winning the bride, though it is a feat of another sort. Wilhelm catches a swan-maiden, and later releases her from an enchanted mountain by hewing trees, separating grain, and finding his wife among three hundred women. Thus by her help he breaks the spell, and carries her back home. Later they journey together to her father’s court. On the way Wilhelm pays the debts of a corpse, and has it buried. They meet two officers of the king, who toss Wilhelm overboard from the ship in which they sail, but he is saved by the ghost of the dead man and brought to court. He is recognized by the princess, and proves his identity to her father by means of a ring and a handkerchief.

In Simrock V. the thankful beast again appears, but in a less complicated setting than in the case of Jean de Calais II., VII., and X., or Simrock II., III., and VIII. A widow’s son on his way home from market pays the debts of a corpse and buries it, thus using all his money. The next time he goes to market, he gives all his proceeds to ransom a maiden, whom he marries. She does embroidery to gain money, and one day holds out a piece of it to the king, who is passing. He recognizes her as his daughter, and accepts the hero as son-in-law. The young couple start back home for the widow, but on the way the servants cast the young man into the sea. He escapes, however, to an island, where he is fed by an eagle. Later the eagle declares itself to be the ghost of the dead man, and brings its benefactor to court.

Oldenburgian is a similar tale. A merchant’s son while on a voyage pays thirty dollars to bury a man, and also buys a captive princess with her maid. Though ill-received by his father on his return, he marries the girl. Later he goes on another voyage, with his wife’s portrait as the figure-head of his ship. This is recognized by the king, who sends him back for the princess in the company of a minister. The latter pitches him overboard, goes on for the princess, and does not tell her of her loss till they arrive at court. She finally consents to marry the traitor after five years. Meanwhile, the hero lives on an island, whither on the day appointed for the princess’s bridal comes the ghost of the dead in the form of a snow-white dove. It takes him to the court, where he is recognized by a ring, a gift from his bride, which he drops into a cup that she offers him.

It remains to consider the general relations of the variants discussed in this chapter. The wide variety in detail of the incidents concerned with the history of the hero’s wife, yet the essential uniformity which they show, would indicate clearly, for one thing, that The Ransomed Woman is a motive originally quite independent of The Grateful Dead,—that the type of story which is our present concern is a true compound. It would even be possible to reconstruct the independent theme in a form not unlike the Wendish folk-tale cited in the beginning of the chapter. The hero, while on a journey, ransoms a princess, takes her home, goes on another journey with some sign that attracts her father’s notice, goes back to her and is cast into the sea by some man who hopes to marry her himself, is rescued, and returns to court to claim his bride, usually by means of a token.

From this general type developed minor varieties with traits borrowed from The Water of Life, The Thankful Beasts, and The Two Friends, or some such tale. Thus very complex variants arose. The question of the connection which these subsidiary elements sustain to the central theme cannot properly be discussed until they have been seen in other combinations. The part they play in the development of the story, it is evident, must have been a secondary one both in importance and in time.