VIII
THE ASCENT OF BALLADS

THE humble folk who listen to ballads with all their ears say
little about their merits. 'That is a pretty ballad* or 'that is
sad' are their comments, and they are even shy at mentioning them
in the presence of strangers. They may suspect, as Vuk Stepan
Karadzic did, that the townsman's curiosity is the preamble to
some taunt; love songs' seem to them less worthy than other tales
and songs; and they would rather display their acquaintance with
some urban novelty. When they can be coaxed into singing tradi-
tional ballads, or surprised in the act, it is their absorbed attention
alone that shows their esteem. They may discuss the event
narrated or compare other variants of the same poem, but they
have no adjectives to spare for the manner of balladry, and the
wisest of critics have followed their example. The late W. P. Ker,
that model of delicate and judicious appreciation, describes the
ballad not by formula but by example.

In spite of Socrates and his logic (he wrote) we may venture to say, in
answer to the question 'What is a ballad?'—'A ballad is The Milldams
of Binnorie and Sir Patrick Spens and The Douglas Tragedy and Lord
Randal and Childe Maurice, and things of that sort.'

Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch,1 who quotes these words, goes on to
define the ballad style by examples, for which the following may
be substituted: a ballad is

There came winging then two coal-black ravens,

feathers dripping blood upon their shoulders,

white the foam that from their beaks was dropping;

in their talons bring they a hand of hero,

on the finger is a ring all golden,

and they cast it in the mother's bosom.

and

God destroy him Vuku Brankovicu!

traitor to his kinsman at Kosovo.

Lazar that day was by Turks confounded,

when there perished ail his goodly army,

when there perished seven and seventy thousand:

all was holy, all was honourable,

all was as our loving God appointed,

1 The Oxford Book of Ballads, Oxford, 1910, 1932.