The "Silence Wager" in Ballad and Tale
[Proofed once quickly, sure to be mistakes. R. Matteson]
The "Silence Wager" in Ballad and Tale
by Paul G. Brewster
East and West, Vol. 21, No. 3/4 (September-December 1971), pp. 363-376
The " Silence Wager" in Ballad and Tale
by Paul G. Brewster
As even the most casual reader (or listener) is aware, the traditional ballad is prevailingly serious, if not tragic, in tone. Fram the earliest beginnings the ballad has been one of the favorite media for stories of warfare and of private vendetta, of kidnapping, of arson and rapine, of treachery, torture, and murder. This statement holds true not only for British texts but for those of Continental Europe and America as well. The British Isles have given us Edward, Babylon, Young Hunting, Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, Lamkin, Captain Car, and The Bonnie House o Airlie; the Scandinavian countries Rib bolt and Guld borg, Nilus and Lillehille, The Avenging Daughters, Sir Falle, Olaf Strangeson, and Valdemar and Tove; the Low Countries Hailewijn and Renaud the Woman-Killer; Lithuania and Estonia Five Brothers and Elina's Death respectively. Germany has contributed The Fair Bernauerin and The Lady of Weissenburg; Greece The Bridge of Arta; Bulgaria I skr en and Milica; Rumania Torna Alimos; Hungary The Poisoner Sister-, and Italy Donna Lom barda.
In England, as the collection of Pepys amply attests, the tradition carried on into the broadsides of the 17th cent., lurid accounts of crimes vying for popularity with those of prodigies and monstrosities (1). Nor, when we take into account the decline of ballad making, does there appear to be even today any appreciable lessening of what may be termed the tradition of tragedy. One has only to examine a few of the 20th cent, ballad collections to find an imposing number of feuding songs, songs of faithless love which ends tragically for one or both of the lovers, and songs celebrating (often even extolling) the exploits of outlaws and "masterless men" (2). It is with a sigh of relief that one turns from this plethora of meanness and crime to songs that are jolly and humorous despite their frequent descent into ribaldry. Among the ballads belonging to this latter group, one of the best is that commonly known as "Get Up and Bar the Door." Although relatively few texts have been recovered in the United States (3), it is a prime favorite in those sections in which it has been found, and one can readily imagine that the rollicking story was even more popular in an earlier and ruder time, both in this country and in England and Scotland.
The present paper has for its aim the examination of a number of ballad and folktale versions of the story for the purpose of establishing certain subtypes into which it falls, and the tracing of some of the more clearly defined influences which have affected it. Since considerations of space preclude the feasibility of making this a thorough comparative study leading to the discovery of the story's provenance, we shall have to content ourselves here with observing in what direction the various influences point (4).
Let us examine first the ballad texts, since it is through the ballad form that the story is best known to the average reader. Child A is typical:
A housewife is boiling puddings at night. A cold wind blows in, and her husband bids her shut the door. She has her hands in the pudding, and refuses. They make an agreement that whichever speaks first shall bar the door. Two belated travelers are guided to the house by the light which streams through the opening. They enter, and, getting no reply to their questions or response to their greetings, fall to eating and drinking what they find. The housewife thinks much but says nothing. One of the strangers proposes to the other that the latter shave off the old man's beard while he himself kisses the goodwife. The second traveler objects that hot water is lacking, but the first suggests that the pudding broth will serve. The goodman cries out, "Will you kiss my wife and scald me?" and, having spoken the first word, has to bar the door.
This is the earliest ballad text of the story, first printed in Herd's The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs (1769), p. 330, and later in his Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs (1776), II, p. 159, and in Pinkerton's Select Scotish Songs (783), II, p. 150.
Child B, recovered in 1886-7 and taken by Child from the Macmath MS., tells substantially the same story as A, except that it contains no mention of the pudding-bree which is to be used in lieu of lather. The couple, unnamed in A, are in B John Blunt and Janet. In C, a text of 1792 first printed in Johnson's Museum, IV, p. 376, the goodman and the wife are in bed when the travelers (three in this version) arrive. The latter drink the goodman's ale and pull his wife out upon the floor. In this text the husband is again John Blunt, while the wife is referred to simply as "auld Luckie."
Greig's Aberdeenshire text closely resembles Child A, but has "this seven year" instead of "this hundred year."
3. "My han' is in my hissy-skip,
Gudeman, as ye may see;
Though it sudna be barred this seven year,
It's nae to be barred by me." (5).
According to the editor's note, "Get Up and Bar the Door" is a modernized version of the older and more robust "John Blunt," a fragment of which Robert Burns contributed to Johnson's Museum in 1792 (6). Keith notes that the goodwife's silent imprecation "May the deil slip down wi' that!" (stanza 6) belongs to the earlier song.
A text from Newfoundland represents the couple as going to bed while under the influence of the ale they have drunk. They forget to bar the door, and make the usual pact. The travelers (again three) eat all the food they can find, drink their fill of ale, and take the old woman out of bed and kiss her on the floor. The conclusion is expanded to two stanzes:
8 "You've eat of my victuals, you drank of my drink,
You've kissed my wife on the floor, O."
"John Blount," she said, "you've spoke the first word!
Go doun and bar the door, O."
9 "If you don't like what they did unto me,
They kissed me on the floor, O,
Take this to be as a warning, see
Every evening you bar your door, O" (7).
Both A and B of Barry, Eckstorm, and Smyth (8) follow closely the Scottish form of the ballad represented by Child A. The first is from New Brunswick (ultimate source Scotland), the second from Maine. Text B has lost the dispute as to the closing of the door and proceeds immediately to the making of the agreement between husband and wife. In the West Virginia version of Combs (e) the goodman is called John Jones; the wife is Jane. Her excuse for not shutting the door is that her hands "are in the sausage meat."
A Michigan text of Scottish origin appears in the Gardner collection (10). It is very similar to Child A but has the refrain: The barrin o' our door, will, will, will, 'Tis the barrin' o' our door, will, apparently a corrupted rendering of that quoted by Christie: And the barring o' our door, weel, weel, weel!
And the barring o' our door, weel! (11)
No refrain appears in any of the Child versions of the ballad. The Virginia fragment recorded by Davis (12) also belongs to the Child A tradition. The first stanza has been contaminated by the opening lines of "Our Goodman."
It will be noted that only minor differences distinguish the ballad texts. In all, the action takes place at night, the penalty is the shutting of a door, the pact is made willingly by both husband and wife, the climactic incident is the mistreatment of the goodwife (plus the threat of indignity to the goodman), and the husband is the first to speak.
It is in folktale form that the story is both most widespread and most varied in detail. In the ballads, as we have seen, the story is a unit. In its prose form, on the other hand, one frequently finds it incorporated into another story as one of the tales told by the three (four) characters of the former (13). This framework type is encountered most often in Indian and Arabian versions, though it appears occasionally in European texts as well. The inclusive frame-story is usually called "The Greatest Fool of Four" or "The Greatest Fool of Three." The frame-story form, however, is not original. The oldest version of the Silent Couple, that from the Chinese Pai-yu ching (Book of the Hundred Apologues), lacks it, and it is only after five or six hundred years have gone by that the frame-story first makes its appearance. The Pai-yu ching story runs as follows:
A man and his wife have three pancakes. Each eats one, but being unable to divide the third to their mutual satisfaction, they agree that whichever speaks first must forfeit it to the other. Thieves enter the house; but although both see them, neither man nor wife utters a word. The thieves collect their booty and make ready to depart. Emboldened by the man's unaccountable silence, they seize the wife and force her to accompany them. "Stop, thief!" she cries, and then to her husband, "What a fool you are that for the sake of a pan-cake you look on these thieves without making a sound!" The husband claps his hands and says, laughing, "Aha! wife, I win the pan-cake." (14).
Closely resembling this is the version in Landes, Contes et legendes annamites, p. 317 (15). In it the penalty is also the loss of an odd cake. A thief begins to climb into the woman's bed, and, when she cries to her husband, "What! Are you going to let him do it?" the husband says to the thief, "I call you to witness that she has lost the cake." Both this and the Pai-yu ching version are Buddhist and probably have a common origin.
In a Hindu tale recorded by McCulloch the quarrel and the bargain arise out of the division of three fish.
A Brahman tells his wife that he will eat two of the three fish she has cooked. She demurs, and a dispute follows. The wife suggests that they go to bed without eating and that the one who is first to speak must eat only one of the fish. He agrees. Next morning, when they do not appear as usual, the neighbors call to them but to no avail. Thinking that the two have died during the night, people break down the door and enter the house. Since neither will speak, they are thought to be dead and are borne to the burning-ghat. Three of the neighbors remain to perform the funeral rites; the rest return to their homes. The former lift the Brahman upon the pyre and apply the torch. They then lift the wife to lay her beside her husband. Just at that moment the flames reach the Brahman's body, and, unable to remain silent any longer, he cries out, "I'll eat the one!" His wife promptly replies, "Then I'll eat the other two." Convinced that the man and wife have become ghouls, the three neighbors run away to escape being eaten. The former return to their home, where the Brahman eats one of the fish and his wife eats the other two (16).
It will be noted that there are three points of difference between this version and the two preceding: 1. the climactic incident is not the boldness of a thief but the imminent danger of death, 2. it is the husband who is first to speak, and 3. the episode of the flight of the terrified neighbors from the supposed ghouls, which would appear to be a later addition to the story. The first of the above is present also in the following Arabic text.
The husband asks his wife to moisten some stale bread which she has set before him for supper. She refuses. They argue the matter and finally agree that the first one to speak must get up and moisten the bread. A neighbor enters and finds the couple dumb. He kisses the wife; the husband says nothing. He strikes the latter, who still utters no sound. The neighbor then takes the man before the kadi, who, when he refuses to speak, orders him hanged. The husband is being led away to execution, when the wife rushes up and cries, "O save my poor husband!" "You wretch," says the husband, "go home and moisten the bread (17)."
The moistening of bread as the cause for the pact is present also in an Egyptian story.
Kheba (Ignorance) has a wife called Neba (Scold). As he is walking one day, he finds a pretty object, which he decides to give to the Sultan. In return for the gift the Sultan grants Kheba's request, which is to have his house filled with bread. Kheba and his wife sit down to eat. He orders her to moisten the bread, but she refuses. They quarrel. As they sit opposite each other, neither saying a word (18), a slave enters summoning Neba to help a woman who is about to give birth. After the child is born, they kill a sheep and give the entrails to Neba, who hands them to a slave, bidding her take them to Kheba. When Kheba does not speak, the slave hangs the entrails around his neck. Dogs smell the entrails, seize them, and drag Kheba into the Nile. A fisherman passes by and casts his net. When he draws it up, Kheba is in it. The fisherman asks Kheba whether he is man or spirit; Kheba makes no reply. The fisherman then hits upon the idea of exhibiting his strange catch for money. In the meantime Neba has gone home, but, finding no Kheba there, she thinks that perhaps he has gone to wash the entrails, so walks down to the river. There she sees the fisherman carrying Kheba in his net. "What's the matter, Kheba?" she asks. "Ah, you have to moisten the bread!" he shouts. The fisherman exclaims, "Get down and a curse be upon you! Is it only about moistening the bread that you have made this row (19)."
A closer parallel to the Arab tale, however, is von der Hagen's "Das schweigsame Paar" (20). A husband bids his wife prepare the supper; she places upon the table three pieces of dry bread (21). He asks her how the devil one can eat bread so hard and dry and commands her to moisten it. She refuses, saying that she is tired. They quarrel and then make the usual pact. A neighbor enters and speaks to the couple, but neither answers. He kisses the wife; the husband utters no word. He then strikes the husband, who still remains silent. Finally the neighbor hales the man to the judge. The latter, who has no better success than had the neighbor, sentences the man to be hanged for his obduracy. Just as the sentence is about to be carried out, the wife cries, "O my poor unfortunate husband!" "You she-devil," the husband shouts, "go home and moisten the bread!"
In the Bohemian version of Wenzig, "Wer hat die Tauben gegessen?" the silence pact is made because of the husband's eating the two doves during the wife's absence and his denial of her accusations.
The wife cooks two doves, one for her husband, the other for herself. While she is out of the kitchen, the husband eats both. Upon her return, she asks who has eaten the doves. The husband claims to have no knowledge of them and stoutly persists in his denial. The wife then says that the first to speak will be the one who has eaten them. Their silence continues until the third day, when a servant enters to inquire the road for his master, who is driving by. First, the wife points the direction. Then she goes out to the driver and by signs gives him to understand that she will accompany him and show the way. Seeing his wife seat herself in the wagon, the husband thinks that she is leaving him and cries out, "Wife! my dear wife, don't go away! I ate the doves." The wife bursts into laughter and tells the whole story to the driver, who gives her a ducat to buy more doves. Of these the husband gets not a single bite (22).
In another form of the story the penalty is not the deprivation of a coveted bit of food but the imposition of some kind of task: washing the dishes, sweeping the floor, etc. The former penalty appears in one of the novelle of Sercambi.
A young couple, lying in bed the first night of their marriage, make a bargain that the one who rises or speaks first must wash the dishes for a week. The husband gives away a fine garment belonging to the wife. She cries out in protest and has to wash the dishes (23).
The penalty in a French tale consists in the performance of all of the household tasks.
In the good old days the husband and the wife took turns in doing the work of the house. On one of the days when it was the husband's turn to take care of the house-work, the wife finds him drinking with friends. Angry, she vows that she will never speak to him again. He takes her at her word and proposes that the first to speak from then on do all the work of the house. The wife agrees. Both observe a strict silence for fifteen days. At the expiration of that time a traveler in need of shoes stops to engage the services of the husband, a shoemaker. The latter pays no heed to the traveler but only whistles. The traveler then addresses the wife, with the same result. Thinking that he is being ridiculed, the traveler beats Marianne, the wife. The husband now whistles more merrily than ever. Forgetting the agreement, the wife cries, "Oh, the wretch!" Her husband then reminds her of the pact and announces that henceforth she must perform all the household tasks. Since then, house-keeping has been the exclusive province of women (24).
Still another form of the story is that in which the first one to speak must feed or water an animal. The following is told of the Hodscha Nasreddin (Nasr-ed-Din):
The Hodscha has a calf, which he and his wife take turns in feeding and watering. One day the wife is invited to a wedding. It happens to be her turn to take care of the calf, so she asks her husband how they shall arrange matters. He suggests that the first to say anything must feed and water the calf. She agrees and departs for the wedding. The women of a band of gypsies encamped nearby roam through the village in search of things to steal. One enters the house of the Hodscha and proceeds to fill her bag with articles. Made bolder by his silence, she snatches the skull-cap and turban from his head. The wife returns from the wedding feast, bringing with her a dish of food for her husband. Seeing the havoc wrought in the house during her absence, she asks what has become of their possessions. He replies, "You have spoken first; today you must give food and water to the calf" (25).
From Persia comes a somewhat similar tale. In this instance the quarrel is about the watering of some sheep, and the third character is a barber, not a gypsy. A Haji and his wife get into a quarrel about watering their sheep. They make a silence-wager, and the wife leaves to visit a neighbor. In her absence a barber comes to shave the Haji and gives the latter the mirror to hold. When the Haji hands it back, signifying that he does not wish a shave, the barber asks, "Shall I shave your head?" When no reply is forthcoming, the barber begins work. As soon as he has finished, he proceeds to trim the Haji's beard. When he is only halfway through, a noise outside attracts his attention, and, before he realizes what he is doing, he has cut off half the beard. Now, of course, there is nothing to do but take off the rest. He does so and makes three beauty-spots on the Haji's face with a bit of charcoal. When the barber asks for his pay but receives no reply, he picks up some jewelry and goes away. The returning wife does not a first recognize her husband. When she does, she begins laughing and asks, "Husband, who has done this to you?" The Haji jumps up and skips for joy, saying, "You spoke first; go water the sheep!" (26).
The Mosul region has yielded a tale which resembles closely the 14th cent, one told of Nasreddin. In the former the penalty is watering an ass. During the absence of the wife the house is robbed and even the ass is taken away. The climax parallels that of the Nas-reddin story. Minor points of difference are the fact that the wife goes on a visit to her father, not to a wedding, and that the robber is not a gypsy but a beggar. The wife follows and joins the robber, tricks him into returning all that he has stolen (including the ass), and returns home triumphant. Upon her return the husband orders her to water the ass because she has spoken first, to which she replies, "Asche auf dein Haupt wegen deines Verstandes" (27).
Sometimes the returning of a borrowed dish or pan is the penalty. Perhaps the best example of this type is Bernoni's tale (28). Here again it is the wife who speaks first because of a danger threatening her husband.
Wishing to fry some fritters, a shoemaker and his wife borrow a pan from the former's godmother, agreeing that the first to speak will have to return it. After eating the fritters, both go to their tasks of making shoes and spinning, each of them singing the while. A soldier enters and desires the shoemaker to cut a girth for his horse. Incensed at their continued silence, he is about to cut off the husband's head, when the alarmed wife calls, "Oh don't, for mercy's sake!" "Good!" exclaims the husband, " Now carry the pan back to my godmother."
In Simrock's story "Gutmann und Gutweib" the penalty is again the returning of a pan. Husband and wife live in a forest seven miles from the nearest neighbors. After their silence pact has been kept for several days, a passing hunter stops in to inquire his way. When neither will answer him, he winks at the woman to follow him, gets her to point out the road, and gives her money. When she returns, she shakes the money under her husband's nose, humming tauntingly. "So much money couldn't have been earned honestly!" the indignant husband exclaims, and has to return the pan (29).
The shutting of a door as the penalty for being the first to speak is to be found in the folktale as well as in the ballad. A good example of this type is a tale from Straparola, which runs as follows: A husband and his wife are one night sitting near the entrance of their house. The former says, "It's bedtime; shut the door." The wife replies, "Shut it yourself." They make the usual agreement. The wife goes to bed; the husband lies down on a bench. A servant, whose lantern has been extinguished, sees the open door and steps inside to ask for a light. He receives no reply from either man or wife. He then gets into bed with the wife, who says nothing until the visitor has gone. Then she exclaims to her husband, "A fine fellow you are, leaving the door open all night and letting people get into your bed!" "Fool!" he replies, "go shut the door (30)."
Clouston's Arabian story resembles this in its beginning but has a different conclusion. A numskull marries, and provides an elaborate wedding feast for his friends and rela? tives. After the feast is over, he conducts the goests to the door, which he neglects to close when they have gone. His wife bids him close the door. He refuses, saying that he is no servant and that he doesn't want to soil his fine attire, and tells her to close it herself. She also refuses, pleading that she too has on her best clothes. She then suggests that the door be fastened by the first of them to speak, and he agrees. Two hours later some thieves, seeing the door open, enter and begin to pillage. They do a thorough job, even taking jewelry from the persons of the couple and pulling the carpets out from under their feet. All the while neither man nor wife utters a sound. Early next morning a police officer notices the open door and enters to question the couple. When they do not answer his questioning, he becomes angry and orders that their heads be cut off. The executioner is preparing to carry out the order, when the wife cries, "Don't kill him!" The husband reminds her that she has lost the wager and bids her shut the door. He then explains matters to the officer, who leaves in disgust (31).
In a Balochi version of the Silent Couple story the penalty is also the shutting of a door. One night I was sleeping in my house with my wife. I told her to get up and shut the door, and she said, "Get up and shut it yourself." At last we settled it that the one who spoke first should have to shut the door. Now there was a thief listening to what we said, who had made his way into the house. First he robbed our house, and I see him and my wife sees him; but neither of us says a word lest we should have to shut the door. Then the thief tied our things up in a bundle and carried it out and put it down outside. Then he came back and rubbed his hand on the bottom of the griddle, and came and rubbed it over the faces of both of us, man and wife, and made both our faces black, and then went out and warked off with our things. But we did not say a word. In the morning, when it was day, my wife called out, "Man, your face is black!" and I called out, "Well done, wife! Now you get up and shut the door." This is the story of my foolishness (32).
The following Arabic story also has the shutting of a door as the penalty.
Un fumeur de hachich etait adonne au kif et ne s'occupait que de fumer du hachich; sa femme etait adonnee ? la meme passion. Une nuit qu'ils s'etaient grises, la femme prepare le souper, place le plat et s'assit ? cote de son mari, mais eile oublie de fermer la porte. Elle dit" son mari: "Maintenant je suis assise, leve-toi et va fermer la porte." "Leve-toi toi-meme et ferme-la," repondit-il. Us resterent ainsi se disputer, elle disant, "Leve-toi et ferme la porte" et lui repondant, "Leve-toi et ferme-la." Au bout de quelque temps, il reprit: ficoute, femme, tu ne me diras plus: Leve-toi et ferme la porte, et moi je ne te le repeterai plus: mais le souper est place entre nous; aucun de nous n'y portera la main; nous nous tairons: celui qui parlera le premier se levera et fermera la porte." "Bien", dit-elle, "nous nous tairons." Iis cesserent tout bruit et demeurerent se regarder l'un l'autre, sans parier. Iis etaient ainsi silencieux lorsqu'arrive un derviche qui mendiait. II dit, "Le bianfait est." Dieu, et demeura attendre; aucun d'eux ne lui parla. II recommena demander et dit: "Maitre de la maison, donnez-moi un peu de pain pour l'amour de Dieu ?. Nul ne lui repondit. Quand il les vit ainsi, il s'avanga et reprit, "Vous ne m'avez pas dit: Dieu t'assiste!" Iis se turent. Alors il s'assit pres de la femme, s'approcha du plat, prit le pain et se mit ? le manger. Quand il eut fini, il mangea la viande qui etait dans le plat et ne laissa rien. Puis il prit un fil, attacha les os qu'il avait ronges, les mit au cou de la femme et s'en alia; les autres ne regardaient qu'eux et se taisaient. Iis resterent ainsi quelque temps jusq' ce qu'un chien entra. Quand celui-ci vit qu'ils ne le chassaient pas, il se mit "flairer ga et l dans la chambre. II s'approcha de la femme et commenga a la flairer; quand il vit les os sur sa poitrine, il s'elanga pour les saisir. La femme eut peur du chien et dit: ? Va-t-en, va-t-en!" Son mari lui dit: "C'est toi qui as parle; leve-toi et ferme la porte." Elle repondit: "En effet, je me leverai et je fermerai la porte; c'est toi qui as raison." Elle alia fermer la porte, et comme ils ne trouvaient rien manger, elle etendit les tapis, souffle la lumiere et ils s'endormirent attristes, sans demander leur souper, ni qui l'avait mange. Le lendemain, ils se remirent ? leur hachich comme s'ils n'avaient rien vu ni entendu. Le mari se mit a plaisanter sa femme en disant: ? Tu vois comme je Tai emp?rte sur toi; je n'ai pas parle; toi tu as parle et tu as ferme la porte." La femme repliquait: "Si je n'avais pas eu peur du chien, je n'aurais pas parle(33)."
The frame-story did not make its appearance until about 1000 A.D. in the Dharma pariks? of Amitagati (34). Here, four simpletons journeying together meet a Jain ascetic, who gives them his collective blessing. Each of the four considers himself the sole recipient of the blessing, and they begin to quarrel. At length they agree to submit to the ascetic himself the question of ownership of the blessing. He tells them that his blessing was intended for the biggest fool among them; each then claims to be the biggest fool. Finally the ascetic suggests that they move on to a nearby town and there let the inhabit? ants judge the matter. They accept the suggestion and proceed to the town, where each of the four tells a story illustrative of his folly. The story of the Silent Couple is told by the third. He and his wife (he says), lying in bed one night, agree that whichever is the first to speak must pay the other ten cakes mixed with treacle and ghi. A thief enters, steals everything while the couple remain silent, and at last seizes the wife's undergarment. The wife scolds her husband roundly for his indifference. He merely laughs and exclaims, "You've lost! Pay me the ten cakes!"
Another Indian version of the tale has a leaf of betel as the forfeit for breaking silence. As will be noted, there are resemblances here to several of the types already illustrated (35).
A Brahman tells his wife that all women are chatterboxes. She retorts that men are just as talkative as women (36). Taking this as a personal reference, the Brahman suggests a silence wager, the loser to pay the winner a leaf of betel. The wife agrees. When they do not appear at the usual time the next morning, the neighbors break in and find them apparently speechless. Thinking the couple bewitched, the nighbors call in a magician. He gives the name of the demon who is responsible for their condition, and agrees to restore their speech upon the payment of a large sum. The relatives, though poor, accede to his demands. The magician is about to begin his cure, when another Brahman, a friend of the first, says he believes the cause to be a natural one and that he will cure the malady without charge. He fills a chafing-dish with burning charcoal and heats a small bar of gold. Then he takes up the bar with pincers and applies it to the soles of the first Brahman's feet, to his elbows, and to the crown of his head. However, all is without effect. But when the hot bar is applied to the foot of the woman, she screams, and, turning to her husband, gives him the leaf of betel. The Brahman then explains all to neighbors and relatives who laugh at his folly and nick-name him "Betel" (37).
The Indian version in the V etalapancavimsati (Twenty-five Tales of a Demon) appears in only a single manuscript of that work and is in a fragmentary form. Here the frame story is the Greatest Fool of Three (38). The Silent Couple story makes its appearance also, though infrequently, in drama. It seems to have been used first in "The Wonder-working Stone," an English farce (c, 1600). Boke (p. 225) cites several Dutch and German works containing the story, among them Ayrers Dramen (ed. von Keller), III, p. 2006 and von Arnim's Schaubhne (1813). The most recent dramatization is probably that of Hudson, who dramatized a ballad version in his "Git Up an' Bar the Door," introducing a great deal of local color. There is little difference between the dramatized and the undramatized and the undramatized versions. Among the familiar features found in the former are, for example, the husband's speaking first because he thinks the wife is about to be abducted (39), his speaking first because of a kiss given her by a stranger (40), and the wife's being first to speak through exasperation at her husband's indifference (41).
As we have seen, the Silent Couple motif in Anglo-Scottish (and American) tradition occurs only in ballad form and the penalty for speaking first is always the shutting of a door. The action takes place at night; the initial order comes from the husband; both husband and wife agree to the conditions of the pact; and the husband is the first to speak. In the folktale versions the action frequently takes place in the daytime, and the length of time the silence is observed is considerably lengthened (to fifteen days in one instance!). Although, as in the ballad, the chief characters are man and wife, many others are introduced who are not to be found in the ballad texts (neighbors, gypsies, fisherman, police officer, judge, executioner, etc.). In sixteen of the eighteen prose tales summarized here the woman is the first to speak. Penalties include the forfeiting of a choice bit of food, the returning of a borrowed dish or pan, doing the housework, paying a forfeit (of food), feeding and watering an animal or animals, moistening some stale bread, and shutting a door. According to all available evidence, the ultimate source of the Silent Couple story would seem to be China, whence it passed to India, and, presumably, from India to Persia and thence to the Arabic-speaking countries. It was probably through the latter that the story was introduced into Europe. Why it is found only in ballad form in the British Isles and only in folktale form elsewhere is a question impossible to answer.
REFERENCES
Archiv fer slavische Philologie, XIX, pp. 244 f.
Archivio per lo studio delle tradizioni popolari (Palermo, 1882 ?), XIII, 1894, p. 548; XXI, p. 360.
Ph. Barry, F.H. Eckstorm, M.W. Smyth, British Ballads front Maine, New Haven, 1929.
R. Bas set, Mille et un contes, recits, et legendes arahes, 3 vols., Paris, 1924-26.
R. Basset, "Contes et legendes arabes," Revue des traditions populaires, XV, 1900, pp. 283 f.
W.F.A. Behrnauer, Die vierzig Veziers oder die weisen Meister, Leipzig, 1851.
M. Belletete, Contes turcs en language turque, extraits du Roman intitule Les Quarante Vi? zirs, Paris, 1812.
G. Bernoni, Fiabe popolari veneziane, Venezia, 1873.
F.W.D. Brie, "Eulenspiegel in England," Palaestra, XXVII, 1903, pp. 115 f.
E. H. Carnoy, Litterature orale de la Picardie (Les Litteratures Populaires, XIII), Paris, 1883.
E, Chavannes, Cinq cents contes et apologues extraits du tripitaka chinois, 3 vols., Paris, 1910-11.
V.C. Chauvin, Bibliographie des ouvrages arabes, 11 vols., Liege, 1892-1909.
F J. Child, The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, 10 vols., Boston, 1882-98.
D. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, 2 vols., Edinburgh, 1876-81.
W.A. Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, 2 vols., Edinburgh, 1887.
W.A. Clouston, The Book of Noodles, London, 1888.
J. H. Combs, Folk-Songs du Midi des Etats-Unis, Paris, 1925.
J. H. Cox, Folk-Songs of the South, Cambridge, Mass., 1925.
T. F. Crane, Italian Popular Tales, London, 1885.
O. Dohnhardt, Natur sagen, 4 vols., Leipzig, 1907-12.
W.L. Dames, "Balochi Tales", Folk-Lore, IV, p. 195.
A.K. Davis, Traditional Ballads of Virginia, Cambridge, Mass., 1929.
J.A. Dubois, Moeurs, institutions, et ceremonies des peuples de rinde (trans, and ed. H.K. Beauchamp as Hindu Manners, Customs, and Ceremonies), 3rd ed., Oxford, 1906.
W. Dykstra, Uit frieslands volksleven, Leeuwar den, 1894.
E. E. Gardner, G.J. Chickering, Ballads and Songs of Southern Michigan, Ann Arbor, 1939.
E. J. W. Gibb, The History of the Forty Vezirs, London, 1886.
A. Gittee, J. Lemoine, Contes populaires du pays wallon, Gent, 1891.
E.B. Greenleaf, G.Y. Mansfield, Ballads and Sea Songs of Newfoundland, Cambridge, Mass., 1933.
G. Greig, Last Leaves of Traditional Ballads and Ballad Airs (ed. A. Keith), Aberdeen, 1925.
A.P. Hudson, "Git Up an' Bar the Door", American Folk Plays (ed. F. Koch), New York, 1939.
Jahrbuch fer romanische und englische Literatur, XII, 348 f.
E. T. Kristensen, Aeventyr fr? Jylland, Kjebn havn, 1881-4.
M. Lidzbarski, Geschichten und Lieder aus den neu-ara marchen Handschriften zu Berlin, Wei? mar, 1896.
W. McCulloch, Bengali Household Tales, Lon? don, 1912.
H. Parker, Village Folk-Tales of Ceylon, 3 vols., London, 1910-14.
G. Pitre, Fiabe, novelle e racconti popolari sici liani, Palermo, 1875.
A.H. Sayce, ? Cairene Folklore ?, Folk-Lore, XI, pp. 354
f. J. Tittmann, Die Schausspiel der englischen Ko? m?dianten in Deutschland, Leipzig, 1880.
Volkskunde, Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsche Folk? lore. F. H. von der Hagen, Tausend und ein Tag., 11 vols., Prenzlau, 1832.
A. von Keiler (ed.), Ayrers Dramen, III, Stutt? gart, 1865, pp. 2006-8.
J. Wenzig, Westslavischer Marchenschatz, Leipzig, 1857.
A. Wesselski, Der Hodscha Nasreddin, 2 vols., Weimar, 1911.
J.W. Wolf, Deutsche M?rchen und Sagen, Leip? zig, 1845.
Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenl?ndischen Gesell? schaft. Zeitschrift f?r den deutschen Unterricht.
Footnotes:
(1) Cf. also the Shirburn, Bagford, Roxburghe, and other collections.
(2) E. g. "A Tolliver-Martin Feud Song," "The Vance Song, "The Ashland Tragedy," "Pearl Bryan," "McAfee's Confession," "Little Mary Fagin", "Jesse James," "Sam Bass," etc.
(3) The first complete American text was print ed by Cox [Folk-Songs of the South, p. 516) in 1925; however, a fragment from Michigan had been reported earlier. See, for additional texts, Greenleaf, Mansfield, Ballads and Sea Songs of Newfoundland, p. 41; Combs, Folk-Songs du Midi des Etats-Unis, p. 147; Davis, Traditional Ballads of Virginia, p. 495; Barry, Eckstorm, Smyth, 363 British Ballads from Maine, p. 318; Gardner, Chickering, Ballads and Songs of Southern Michigan, p. 371.
(4) The author has listed at the end of this paper what appear to him the most significant features of the texts summarized. Admittedly, however, the evidence pointing to provenance is hardly conclusive.
(5) Last Leaves of Traditional Ballads and Ballad Airs, p. 217.
(6) Ibid.
(7) Greenleaf, Mansfield, p. 41.
(8) Pp. 318, 320.
(9) P. 147. The same text appears also in Cox, Folk-Songs of the South, p. 516.
(10) P. 371.
(11) Traditional Ballad Airs, II, p. 262.
(12) Traditional Ballads of Virginia, p. 495. 365
(13) The frame-story has, of course, always been a popular form in works of a more literary nature as well. (14) Chavannes, Cinq cents contes et apologues ex traits du tripitaka chinois, II, p. 209. The author is identified by Chavannes as a monk, Sarhghasena, who composed the work about the middle of the 5th cent. A. D. From India it was carried to China by Gunavrddhi, a Buddhist monk.
(15) For a summary of the Annamite tale, see Giornale storico delta letteratura, XVI, p. 257.
(16) Bengali Household Tales, p. 125.
(17) Clouston, The Book of Noodles, p. 109, note.
(18) It will be noted that nothing is said of the making of a silence pact. However, that one is made is clear from the conclusion of the tale.
(19) Volk-Lore, XI, p. 359.
(20) Tausend und ein Tag, XI, pp. 270-271.
(21) Since the question of division does not arise here, there seems to be no reason for the number three. It may be assumed that it is an accretion from another version or that it is simply the ubiquitous three common to the folklore of most peoples.
(22) Westslavischer Marchenschatz, p. 128.
(23) d'Ancona, Novelle dt Sercambt, p. 16, no. 3 ("De simplicitate viri et uxoris"). Cf. the Belgian tale reported by Wolf (Deutsche Maerchen und Sagen, p. 158) and de Mont and de Cock, Vlaamsche Vertelsels, II, p. 242 ("Het stilz wijgende Koppel "). In the latter the wife speaks when a cover is removed from the bed.
(24) Carnoy, Litterature orale de la Vicar die, p 167 ("Pourquoi la femme fait le menage").
(25) Wesselski, Der Hodscha Nasreddin, no. 237.
(26) Memoirs of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, I, no. 18, pp. 375-412.
(27) Geschichten und Lieder aus den neu-ara maschen Handschriften der Kaniglichen Bibliothek zu Berlin (Beitrage zur Volks- und Volkerkunde, IV), Weimar, 1896, p. 179.
(28) Fiabe popolari veneziane, p. 67. The same text appears also in Crane, Italian Popular Tales, p. 284. Similar to Bernoni in their beginnings are the versions in Dykstra (II, p. 123) and Gittee, Lemoine (p. 78).
(29) Deutsche Marchen, no. 34. (30) Le Piacevoli Notti, 8th Night, 1st story. In Straparola this is part of a frame-story. Three travelers find a ring. Each claims it, and a quarrel follows. They agree to leave the decision to a man riding past. He rules that the ring shall belong to the laziest, and each of the three then tells a tale to illustrate his lazineee. This is told by the third.
(31) The Book of Noodles, p. 107. The same story is given in Popular Tales and Fictions, I, p. 19.
(32) Yolk-Lore, IV, p. 195. 372
(33) Basset, Mille et un contes, recits, et le? gendes arabes, II, pp. 400-402.
(34) See Pischel, "Gutmann und Gutweib in India," ZDMG, LVIII, pp. 363-373; Mironov, Die Dharmapariksa des Amitagati, p. 20.
(35) The husband's proposing the pact appears also in the Picardy version of Carnoy; the use of heat as a persuader to speech is found in McCulloch's Hindu tale.
(36) On a first reading, one might think this a satire on the garrulity of women. However, it will be noted that it is the Brahman who is made the butt of ridicule.
(37) The Book of Noodles, p. 181. For another Indian version, see Kingscote, Sastri, Tales of the Sun, p. 280. The latter, however, lacks the frame-story.
(38) A translation of this tale appears in Ar chivio per to studio delle tradizioni popolari, XIII, 1894, p. 548. Other versions more or less similar will be found in Medjoub ben Kalafat, Choix de fables, p. 105 {"Le negre, sa femme, et le men diant"); Swynnerton, Romantic Tales from the Panjab, with Indian Nights Entertainment, p. 1.75; Kristensen, II, no. 24; D?hnhardt, I, p. 233.
(39) Gueulette, Parades inedites, p. 58.
(40) Viollet le Due, Ancien theatre franqais, II, p. 109.
(41) American Folk Plays (ed. F. Koch), New York, 1939. 374