[B]. 'King John and the Abbot of Canterbury,' broadside printed for P. Brooksby.
The broadside B was printed, with trifling variations, or corrections, in Pills to purge Melancholy, IV, 29 (1719), and in Old Ballads, II, 49 (1723). It is found in several of the collections: Pepys, II, 128, No 112; Roxburghe, III, 883; Ouvry, No 47; the Bagford; and it was among Heber's ballads. Brooksby published from 1672 to 1695, and B was "allowed" by Roger l'Estrange, who was licenser from 1663 to 1685: Chappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, I, xviii, xxiii. The title of B is A new ballad of King John and the Abbot of Canterbury, to the tune of 'The King and the Lord Abbot.'[376] This older ballad seems not to have come down.
There are at least two other broadsides extant upon the same subject, both mentioned by Percy, and both inferior even to B, and in a far less popular style: 'The King and the Bishop,' Pepys, I, 472, No 243, Roxburghe, III, 170, Douce, fol. 110; and 'The Old Abbot and King Olfrey,' Douce, II, fol. 169, Pepys, II, 127, No 111, printed in Old Ballads, II, 55.[377] In both of these the Shepherd is the Bishop's brother, which he is not in B; in A he is half-brother. Pepys's Penny Merriments contain, I, 14, 'The pleasant History of King Henry the Eighth and the Abbot of Reading.'[378] This last may, without rashness, be assumed to be a variation of 'King John and the Abbot.'
Percy admitted 'King John and the Abbot' to his Reliques, II, 302, introducing many lines from A "worth reviving," and many improvements of his own,[379] and thus making undeniably a very good ballad out of a very poor one.
The story of this ballad was told in Scotland, some fifty years ago, of the Gudeman of Ballengeigh, James the V, the hero of not a few other tales. Once on a time, falling in with the priest of Markinch (near Falkland), and finding him a dullard, he gave the poor man four questions to think of till they next met, with an intimation that his benefice would be lost were they not rightly answered. The questions were those of our ballad, preceded by Where is the middle of the earth? The parson could make nothing of them, and was forced to resort to a miller of the neighborhood, who was reputed a clever fellow. When called to answer the first question, the miller put out his staff, and said, There, as your majesty will find by measuring. The others were dealt with as in the ballad. The king said that the miller should have the parson's place, but the miller begged off from this in favor of the incumbent. Small, Interesting Roman Antiquities recently discovered in Fife, p. 289 ff.
Riddle stories in which a forfeit is to be paid by a vanquished party have incidentally been referred to under No 1 and No 2. They are a very extensive class. The oldest example is that of Samson's riddle, with a stake of thirty sheets (or shirts) and thirty change of garments: Judges, xiv, 12 ff. Another from Semitic tradition is what is related of Solomon and Hiram of Tyre, in Josephus against Apion, i, 17, 18, and Antiquities, viii, 5. After the manner of Amasis and the Æthiopian king in Plutarch (see p. 13), they send one another riddles, with a heavy fine for failure,—in this case a pecuniary one. Solomon at first poses Hiram; then Hiram guesses Solomon's riddles, by the aid of Abdemon (or the son of Abdemon), and in turn poses Solomon with riddles devised by Abdemon.[380]
'Pá grönaliðheiði,' Landstad, p. 369, is a contest in riddles between two brothers (refreshingly original in some parts), introduced by three stanzas, in which it is agreed that the defeated party shall forfeit his share of their inheritance: and this the editor seems to take quite seriously.
Death is the penalty attending defeat in many of these wit-contests. Odin (Vafþrúðnismál), jealous of the giant Vafþrúðnir's wisdom, wishes to put it to test. He enters the giant's hall, assuming the name of Gagnráðr, and announces the object of his visit. The giant tells him he shall never go out again unless he prove the wiser, asks a few questions to see whether he be worth contending with, and, finding him so, proposes a decisive trial, with their heads for the stake. Odin now propounds, first, twelve questions, mostly in cosmogony, and then five relating to the future of the universe; and all these the giant is perfectly competent to answer. The very unfair question is then put, What did Odin say in his son's ear ere Balder mounted the funeral pile? Upon this Vafþrûðnir owns himself vanquished, and we may be sure he was not spared by his antagonist.
The Hervarar saga contains a story which, in its outlines, approximates to that of our ballad until we come to the conclusion, where there is no likeness. King Heiðrekr, after a long career of blood, gave up war and took to law-making. He chose his twelve wisest men for judges, and swore, with one hand on the head and the other on the bristles of a huge hog which he had reared, that no man should do such things that he should not get justice from these twelve, while any one who preferred might clear himself by giving the king riddles which he could not guess. There was a man named Gestr, and surnamed the Blind, a very bad and troublesome fellow, who had withheld from Heiðrekr tribute that was due. The king sent him word to come to him and submit to the judgment of the twelve: if he did not, the case would be tried with arms. Neither of these courses pleased Gestr, who was conscious of being very guilty: he took the resolution of making offerings to Odin for help. One night there was a knock. Gestr went to the door, and saw a man, who announced his name as Gestr. After mutual inquiries about the news, the stranger asked whether Gestr the Blind was not in trouble about something. Gestr the Blind explained his plight fully, and the stranger said, "I will go to the king and try what I can effect: we will exchange looks and clothes." The stranger, in the guise of Gestr, entered the king's hall, and said, Sire, I am come to make my peace. "Will you abide by the judgment of my men of law?" asked the king. "Are there not other ways?" inquired Gestr. "Yes: you shall give me riddles which I cannot guess, and so purchase your peace." Gestr assented, with feigned hesitation; chairs were brought, and everybody looked to hear something fine. Gestr gave, and Heiðrekr promptly answered, some thirty riddles.[381] Then said Gestr: Tell thou me this only, since thou thinkest to be wiser than all kings: What said Odin in Balder's ear before he was borne to the pile? "Shame and cowardice," exclaimed Heiðrekr, "and all manner of poltroonery, jugglery, goblinry! no one knows those words of thine save thou thyself, evil and wretched wight!" So saying, Heiðrekr drew Tyrfing, that never was bared but somebody must fall, to cut down Gestr. The disguised Odin changed to a hawk, and made for the window, but did not escape before Heiðrekr's sword had docked the bird's tail. For breaking his own truce Odin said Heiðrekr should die by the hand of a slave, which came to pass. Fornaldar Sögur, Rafn, I, 462 ff.
The same story has come down in a Färöe ballad, 'Gátu ríma,' Hammershaimb, Færöiske Kvæder, No 4, p. 26 (and previously published in the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, 1849-51, pp 75-78), translated by Dr Prior, I, 336 ff. Gest promises Odin twelve gold marks to take his place. The riddles are announced as thirteen in number, but the ballad is slightly defective, and among others the last question, What were Odin's words to Balder? is lost. Odin flies off in the shape of a falcon; Hejdrek and all his men are burned up.