The Grateful Dead: Chapter VIII. Conclusion

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CHAPTER VIII.

CONCLUSION.

IN considering the general development and relations of The Grateful Dead, to which we must now turn, it is proper to inquire first of all as to its origin. Hitherto the existence of the story-theme as such has been taken well nigh for granted, though the discussion of variants in simple form necessitated some reference 1 to the point of separation between the märchen and whatever beliefs or social customs lie beyond. Now that the tale has been followed through its various modifications and has been proved by a systematic study of its forms to be, if I may use the expression, a living organism, the debateable land outside can be entered with measurable security.

There can be no doubt that The Grateful Dead as a theme is based upon belief's about the sacred duty of burial and upon the customs incident to withholding burial for the sake of revenge or recompense. To study these phenomena in detail is not necessary to the scheme of this book, but belongs rather to the province of primitive religion and law. It is sufficient for our purpose to show the nature and extent of such observances and beliefs for the sake of the light which they may throw on the genesis of the tale itself.

The belief that no obligation is more binding on man than that he pay proper respect to the dead is as old as civilization itself. Indeed, it probably antedates what

1 Herodotus tells 2 of the Egyptian law, which permitted a man to give his father's body in pledge, with the proviso that if he failed to repay the loan neither he nor any of his kin could be buried at all. The story, also related by Herodotus, 3 of Rampsinit and the thief, which turns on the latter's successful attempt to rescue his brother's body, illustrates again the value that the Egyptians set upon burial. Their notion seems to have been that the more honour paid the dead, the more bearable would be their lot, though it was regarded as unenviable at best. 4 Among the Magi of Persia, though both burial and burning were prohibited because of the sanctity of earth and fire, the bodies of the dead were cared for according to the strictest of codes, being left to the sun and air on elevated structures. 5 In India the Rig-Veda 6 bears witness to similar carefulness in the performance of this sacred duty.

In classical times belief in the necessity of proper burial was widespread. Patroclus, it will be remembered, appears to his friend Achilles, and admonishes him that he should not neglect the dead, at the same time giving a dire picture of the state of the unburied. 7 Pausanias speaks 8 of the conduct of Lysander as reprehensible in not burying the bodies of Philocles and the four thousand slain at Aegospotami, saying that the Athenians did as

1 of Simonides gives definite proof of the concrete nature of the reverential feeling among both Greeks and Romans. Suetonius in his life of Caligula relates that when the emperor's body was left half burned and unburied, ghosts filled the palace and garden.

An example of the mediaeval belief is found in the Middle High German Kudrun, written at the end of the twelfth century or the beginning of the thirteenth.

The Annamite tale cited in the third chapter 3 and Servian VI., likewise summarized in connection with variants having the story-theme in simple form, 4 bear witness to the effect that the widespread belief has had upon folk-tales now in circulation. The connection of these two tales with the märchen as such is so vague that they serve the end of illustrating its growth from popular belief rather than the relationship of one form to another. So also the story from Brittany, printed by Sébillot, 5 which tells how a ghost came to workmen in a mill demanding Christian interment for its body then buried under the foundations, serves the same end, though no reward is mentioned. Sometimes the neglect of burial by a person brings unpleasant results to him, as is witnessed by a tale from Guernsey. 6 A fisherman neglected

1

In most versions of The Grateful Dead a corpse is left unburied either because creditors remain unpaid or the surviving relatives cannot pay for Christian burial. From sixteenth century Scotland we have evidence that the latter trait is based on actual custom. Sir David Lyndesaye, in The Monarche, while describing the exactions of the clergy, says:

This evidence for the widespread belief in the pious duty of burial and for the custom of withholding burial in cases where the dead man was poor, though it might easily be increased in bulk, makes very clear at least two matters. The tale of The Grateful Dead might have arisen almost anywhere and in almost any age since the time of the Egyptians. Again, when once it had been formed, it was likely to be reinforced or changed by the beliefs and customs prevalent in the lands to which it came.

The first matter at once suggests the question as to whether, after all, the märchen has not been more than once discovered by the imagination of story-tellers,—whether it has not sprung up again and again in different parts of the world like different botanical species,

1 It has preserved its integrity for nearly a score of centuries, though suffering many changes of details, and a variety of combinations with other themes. To my mind such an involved relationship as that worked out in the preceding chapters proves conclusively that the story is one, that the connection between variants is more than fortuitous. Inductive logic makes the belief inevitable. Any other theory would involve us in a bewildering net of contradictions, from which escape could be found only in the avowal that nothing whatever can be known about narrative development.

If the seemingly inevitable conclusion be accepted that The Grateful Dead is an organism with a life history of its own, the question at once suggests itself as to when and where it came into being. As to its

1 even though he did not accept Simrock's theory that it was Germanic. Notwithstanding the fact that most variants are European, this hypothesis seems to me very improbable. Tobit, the earliest variant which we possess, 2 is distinctly Semitic in origin and colouring. Other versions from Asia, like Jewish, Armenian, and Siberian, though modern folk-tales, add weight to the evidence of the apocryphal story, especially since the one last named comes from a somewhat remote region where European narratives could not without difficulty have much direct influence. Of course it is possible to suppose that the theme came to the Semites from the West, and was by them disseminated in Asia; 3 but the early date of Tobit renders it unlikely that such was the case. Certainly it is more reasonable from the evidence at hand to believe in the Oriental origin of the märchen. As to the particular region of Asia where it was probably first related, nothing can be said with security. Yet since there is no evidence that it has ever been known in India, Western Asia, and perhaps the region inhabited by the Semites, may be considered, at least tentatively, its first home.

The age of the theme cannot definitely be measured. It is possible, however, to say that it must have existed at least as early as the beginning of our era. Tobit is of assistance again here. As the book is believed to have been written during the reign of Hadrian (76-138 A.D.) and as it has the motive in a compound form, which is unlikely to have arisen immediately after the

1 and was certainly widely distributed. Among the Semites it would naturally first meet any tale which had other than Indian origin, so that the existence of Tobit at so early a date is only what one would expect, looking at the matter in this retrospective fashion. The amalgamation of these two themes, when once they had come into the same region, was natural. They had the necessary point of contact in the treatment of the hero's wife by a helpful friend, who played an important part in each. In The Poison Maiden she

1 In The Grateful Dead she was innocent, but had to be divided to satisfy the claims of a being who had helped her husband. 2 The part of the friend was less well motivated in The Poison Maiden than in The Grateful Dead, so that it was natural for the themes to unite at a common point and produce a compound at once more complete and more thrilling than were the simpler forms. This combination must have been made not by a conscious literary worker, for, had it been, Tobit would surely stand less independent of the later versions than is actually the case, but by the tellers of folk-tales, in a manner quite unconscious and altogether unstudied. The stories combined of themselves, so to say.

From Semitic lands, if it was indeed there made, the compound seems to have travelled into Europe as well as into other parts of Asia. 3 It has spread during the intervening centuries throughout the length and breadth of Europe, always remaining a genuinely popular tale. As far as my knowledge goes, it did not appear in literature from the time when the Hebrew book of Tobit was written till Peele's Old Wives’ Tale was presented some fifteen centuries later on the English stage. In the nineteenth century it again appeared to the reading public in the version which the Dane Andersen made from a Norse folk-tale. Yet the story in all versions of the compound extant is unmistakably the same, though it has suffered more changes in detail than would be worth while to enumerate here,

1 are of this. type. It follows that the compound must have been formed in the east and carried to the west, since otherwise the distribution should be precisely the opposite of that which obtains. Moreover, had the compound been made in Asia, it is improbable that it would have left such a comparatively feeble trace in the eastern part of the continent of Europe and later have conquered all the west. Other combinations, primary and secondary, have also arisen; but, if the collection of variants hitherto made is at all adequate, they are of inconsiderable importance.

Meanwhile, the simple theme of The Grateful Dead passed into Europe by other paths. Once over the border, it met a tale with which it readily combined, producing a type not less influential than the one just mentioned. This new motive was The Ransomed Woman,. the origin of which is at present quite unknown. Though it is seemingly Oriental in character, all versions yet unearthed come from Europe, so that its provenance must be left in uncertainty. At all events, it was known in eastern Europe, and it was there in all probability that

1 The points of contact, which led to the combination, have already been discussed in the chapter dealing with the type. 2 Suffice it to say at this point that they were, in brief, the journey of the hero, his rescue, and the wife whom he gained at the end of the story. As in the case of The Poison Maiden, the compound seems to have arisen quite naturally by means of these correspondences, with the end of making a more romantic and satisfactory tale. That it took place quite unconsciously seems clear, but that the result was successful is proved by the solidarity of the type thus produced, though it has subsequently been carried into every part of Europe. The relationship of versions, between thirty and forty in number, is unmistakable.

That the simple motive of The Grateful Dead was not exhausted by the two remarkable combinations just treated, that it retained its individuality and independence, is shown by the various minor combinations discussed in the third chapter. It is altogether probable that other examples of such simple compounds as those containing The Swan-Maiden, Puss in Boots, and a story like that told of Pope Gregory 3 are in existence, and may be found by later study. One can speak only with reference to material at command. Very likely other combinations than those treated here are in existence and may also appear, either in sporadic cases or in groups. But, the reader may ask, if the motive is found in so many compounds, both with and without The Poison Maiden and The Ransomed Woman, why does it not occur

1 Sometimes, it is probable, subtraction has taken place as well as addition, but apparently only when it has not involved the disentangling of various traits. For example, many variants have been noted where one of the two most striking features of our central theme, the burial

1 Once started, it will go its way through divers lands and ages, yet retain unaltered the essential features of its plot. Call it story-skeleton, or better, living organism, it always keeps its structural integrity, no matter whether told as a pious legend or a conte à rire. Of no less importance than this is the fact that whatever serious changes take place in its form are not fortuitous, mere whimsical alterations due to the fancy of story-tellers, but are due to capabilities of expansion or combination in the plot itself. Whenever two themes with points of resemblance or contact come into the same region, they are in the long run pretty certain to unite, each retaining its individuality, but merging in the other. This principle is well illustrated in the history of The Grateful Dead. The marriages of stories seem never to be merely for convenience, except in the hands of conscious writers, but to be the result of attraction and real compatibility. That, I take it, is why and how narratives develop.

Were it necessary to justify such studies as the present,

THE END.

 

 

 

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Footnotes

162:1 See pp. 28 f.

163:1 See the comment of von der Leyen, Arch. f. d. St. d. n. Spr. cxiv. 12.

163:2 11. 136.

163:3 iii. 121. The story, however, belongs to the domain of general literature.

163:4 See A. Wiedemann, Die Toten and ihre Reiche im Glauben der alten Aegypter, p. 21 (Der alte Orient, ii, 1900).

163:5 Zend-Avesta, Vendîdâd, chaps. v.-xii.

163:6 x. 18. 1.

163:7 Iliad, xxiii. 71 ff.

163:8 ix. 32.

164:1 See pp. 26 f.

164:2 Ed. Bartsch, xviii. st. 910 and 911.

164:3 P. 27.

164:4 P. 28.

164:5 Traditions et superstitions de la Haute-Bretagne, 1882, i. 238 f.

164:6 MacCulloch, Guernsey Folk Lore, 1903, pp. 283 f.

165:1 See W. Crooke in Folk-Lore, xiii. 280-283.

165:2 Book iii. vv. 4726 ff. of the whole poem (2nd ed. J. Small, 1883, E. E. T. S. orig. ser. 11, p. 153).

166:1 Annamite is an exception, but it cannot be regarded as having any organic connection with the cycle.

167:1 See Heidelberger Jahrbücher, 1868, p. 449.

167:2 Ruling out Simonides, of course, as not clearly belonging to the cycle

167:3 Siberian, it will be remembered, is of the same type as Tobit.

168:1 See Hertz, pp. 151-155.

169:1 For examples, see Hertz, pp. 106-115.

169:2 It is not clear whether she was actually divided in the primitive forms, or merely threatened. In either case the union would take place as stated.

169:3 Armenian and Siberian give adequate evidence as to the truth of the latter statement, though more Asiatic variants of this type are to be desired.

170:1 Servian III., Esthonian II., and Rumanian I.

171:1 See p. 82.

171:2 See pp. 116 f.

171:3 See pp. 40 f.

172:1 See pp. 125-127, 151 f.

173:1 See the author's study, "Forerunners, Congeners, and Derivatives of the Eustace Legend" in Publ. Mod. Lang. Ass. xix. 335-448.