At a Christmas feast in the palace of King Maelgwn, the company were discoursing of the unequalled felicity of the king, upon whom heaven had bestowed, with every other good gift, a queen whose virtues exceeded those of all the noble ladies in the kingdom. Elphin, Maelgwn’s nephew, said, None but a king may vie with a king; otherwise he would say that his own wife was as virtuous as any lady in the kingdom. Maelgwn was not there to hear this boast, but it was duly reported to him, and he ordered Elphin to be thrown into prison, pending a test of Elphin’s wife which he deputed his graceless son, Rhun, to make. Taliesin, Elphin’s bard, warned the lady that Rhun would try to put some disgrace upon her, and advised that one of the servants should personate her mistress when Rhun came to the house. Accordingly, a kitchen-maid was dressed up in her mistress’s clothes, and was seated at the supper-table, her hands loaded with rings. Rhun made his appearance and was welcomed by the disguised menial. He fell to jesting with her, put a powder into her drink, which cast her into a sound sleep, and cut off her little finger, on which was Elphin’s signet-ring. The king assembled his councillors, had Elphin brought in from prison, and showed him the finger, which (so Rhun had averred) had been cut from his wife’s hand the preceding night, while she was sunk in a drunken sleep. Elphin could not deny that the ring was his, but he gave three incontrovertible reasons why the finger could not be his wife’s, one of these being that the ring was too large to stay on his wife’s thumb, yet too small to go over the joint of the little finger of the hand from which it had been cut; and the fact was put beyond question by Taliesin’s afterwards bringing in Elphin’s wife at a state-dinner, and displaying her unmutilated hand.[26]
A lively play of Jakob Ayrer’s (about 1600) has the wager, the substitution, the ring offered in evidence (as in Romaic C, G), the marriage with the maid.
Claudius, master of the hunt to the Prince of Calabria, on the eve of his departure on a voyage, is heard by two courtiers, Leipolt and Seübolt, soliloquizing on the excellences of his wife, Frigia, her housekeeping, virtue, and love for him. They wager all their goods against his that they will bring the woman to do their will. One undertakes to present her wedding-ring, the other her necklace, in proof of the achievement. Leipolt and Seübolt, always acting severally, attempt to buy the services of Jahn Türck, a quick-witted and loyal servant of Claudius. He tells everything to his mistress, and by his advice she dresses two of her maids in her clothes and lets them meet the men, warning them to keep within bounds. Leipolt and Seübolt, each finding the supposed lady coy, are content to secure the means of winning their wager, and, by Frigia’s connivance (who, it seems, had come to knowledge of the wager through Jahn), one of them receives her ring, the other her necklace, as pretended love-tokens. Claudius comes home. Leipolt informs the prince of the wager, and asks Claudius whether he knows the ring and will pay; Seübolt brings out the necklace. Claudius gives all for lost. The prince sends for Frigia. She challenges the courtiers to say that she has misbehaved with them. They own that they have never laid eyes on her, but they recognize the maids when they are brought in, still in their mistress’s clothes. Frigia explains in detail. The prince addresses his councillors (for such they are) in terms of exemplary severity, and adjudges them to marry the maids, making over one third of their property to these and another to Claudius, or to lose their heads. (Compare the Scottish ballad at the end.) They prefer to keep their heads.[27]
A Danish ballad, very popular in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, has the wager (only on the part of the assailant), but the story takes a different turn from the foregoing, for the irresistible knight has simply a conversation with the lady, in which he meets with a definitive repulse.
‘Væddemaalet,’ ‘Herr Lave og Herr Iver Blaa,’ Grundtvig, IV, 302, No 224, A-L, Kristensen, I, 319, No 118, X, 137, No 36; Prior, III, 28, No 104. Lange (Lave) and Peder (Iver) sit at the board talking of wives and fair maids. Peder asserts that the maid lives not in the world whom he cannot cajole with a word. Lange knows the maid so virtuous that neither words nor gold can beguile. Peder wagers life (gold, goods, house, land) and neck (halsbane) that she shall be his by the morrow. He rides straightway to Ingelil, Thorlof’s daughter, and makes love to her in honorable phrase. Ingelil reminds him of two ladies who have received the same professions from him and been betrayed. If she will be his dear, every finger shall wear the red gold: her father has nine gold rings, and would give them all to her if she wished. If she will be his, she shall have a train of servants, out and in: she is not halt or blind, and can go out and in by herself. If he cannot have his will with her, it will cost him his white halsbane: much better so than that he should cheat her, or any honorable maid. Peder rides away sorrowful, for lost is gold and his white halsbane besides.[28] We have already had the Scottish counterpart of this ballad, with variations for better or worse, in ‘Redesdale and Wise William,’ IV, 383, No 246, A-C.
1
There were twa knights in fair Scotland,
And they were brothers sworn;
They made a vow to be as true