Francis James Child was a Harvard Professor in the late 19th century, whose hobby of collecting folk song lyrics became a life-long obsession.  He would eventually publish a multi-volume collection of 305 folk songs (several of which have more than 100 verses) along with notes on their historical content, lyrics, and alternate versions.  Many of these songs would likely have been lost if it weren't for his zeal in this project.

The songs he collected are those that were popular enough to survive generations of we "the folk"!  Not surprisingy, they are overwhelmingly war stories, "bodice rippers", and true-crime novels in ballad form.  Listening to them is an education in murder, incest, battle, true love (it's tests, trials, and deaths), false love (it's schemes and plots),
...basically the ways in which you can scheme, love, fight, and die.

What if people actually tried to live by the mores represented in this sensationalistic distillation?

The
Child Book
of
Etiquette

Lessons learned while reading the ballad collection of Francis James Child.

by David Kessler

     Dear Francis,

     I don't know what else to do so I'm writing to you; you're my last hope.  My sister recently told me that she was pregnant and that I was the father.  We had always taken care not to be caught and now my shame was going to be public.  You can probably see where this is going; I killed her.  Only now my mother seems suspicious.  She found some blood on my clothes and wants to know what happened.  My question is, what's the right way to tell her?

     Sincerely,
     About to board a ship.

     Dear About to board a ship,

     The important thing to remember is to break it to her gently; you can never tell when something like this could be taken out of context and blown out of proportion.  I suggest you explain the situation in stages: Explain the blood away easily at first.  Tell her, for example, that you had to kill one of your hunting dogs.  (You sound like you might have hunting dogs.)  Then, to let her know there could be more to the story, explain that it was actually your horse that you killed.  The subject of death having thus been innocently introduced, you should be able to sit back and wait for her to remark on the inconsistency of your story.  Now play the dutiful son answering her questions, increasing the seriousness of the explanation incrementally.  From your horse, move to an aged relative (does your grandfather live nearby?), and finally to the truth.
     You have now proved your love for her by being both truthful and gentle.  She should be willing to help you explain things to your father or, if that is not an option, to settle your affairs before you board that ship, never to return.
     Bon Voyage.

     Signed,
     Francis James Child

     Dear Francis,

     I am happily married and have 2 wonderful daughters, one blonde and one raven-haired.  A knight recently visited our estate and was naturally impressed by their beauty, but I'm afraid that he hasn't expressed interest in only one of them, but in both.  Perhaps this is suitable behavior in court, but here in the country it is considered improper to court one daughter with gold and rings, while yet loving the other above all things.
     My daughters are good young ladies and don't fight with each other, but I can tell that there is tension between them.  My raven-haired daughter, in particular, seems angered.
     I fear that this will not end well.

     Signed,
     Wondering

     Dear Wondering,

     Although this may seem an impossible situation, take heart and trust to the familial bond: "blood is thicker than water" as they say.
     Let your daughters spend some private, unchaperoned time together so that they can speak frankly to each other about their feelings.  A good long walk together along the seaside should be all that's required to solve the problem.  The fresh sea air is often good for clearing the head and making priorities clear.  You might even find that they are able to decide who should have the knight in question.

     Signed,
     Francis J. Child

     Dear Francis,

     You won't believe what has happened to me.  I am a travelling musician of some skill, if I may say so, and I recently came to this area to perform and earn some money.  I went to a local estate where, I had been told there was a wedding planned, and was welcomed in to play for the guests at the reception.  I finished my first set and took a break to get some food.  That's when things got strange.
     I had set my harp down on a stone, and was halfway across the room when it began to play all by itself!  The tune was a haunting rendition of an old murder ballad.  The bride turned white, like she had seen a ghost, and went absolutely mad.  (You should have heard the way she carried on.)
     The constable was called in and, during the questioning, I mentioned that I had constructed the harp myself out of the breastbone of a blonde I had found washed up on the beach, a few miles downstream.
     So here I am, writing to you from the gaol in hopes that you can tell me what to do.  They're treating me like I'm the one who killed the girl!  They don't understand how hard it is to get quality musical instruments these days without having a patron.

     Signed,
     Rotting in jail

     Dear Rotting in jail,

     Emotions often run high at weddings.  You should explain to the constable that, far from committing a punishable offense, you have done the community a great service by uncovering a crime and providing a valuable lead toward its resolution.  The blonde you found on the beach might never have been found without you, and the culprit never brought to justice.
     While your methods seem unorthodox (might we recommend you spend your gaol time reading on the methods of Sherlock Holmes, who was content to play on a wooden violin when solving mysteries), the reaction to your "haunted harp routine" must bring to mind the words of Queen Gertrude of Denmark, when she noted, "Methinks he doth protest too much".  A thorough questioning of the mad bride is sure to reveal that she knows something about the murdered girl.
     Persevere!  And trust that the guilty will be found out.  Also understand that, as in Denmark, itinerant performers are often ill-used on the road to ultimate justice.

     Signed,
     Francis James Child

     Dear Francis,

     In my youth I was something of a town hero for my strength and my skill with a sword.  You may even have heard of me - Old Bangrum.  I have many stories of those glorious times and I often regale the younger generation with them.  If I exaggerate somewhat, it's only the license of a proud man a little past his prime.  If they see me as an iron fighter with unshakable nerves, that's because my oratory is as powerful as my right arm once was.
     Recently, several local youths were wounded and one was killed, while on a boar hunt.  Well, the story got blown out of all proportion and now the boar is so fierce that they want me to take my sword and pistol and hunt it.  They say that in its lair are the bones of a thousand men.  This is obviously an exaggeration of its fierceness, but at my age any reasonably stout boar would skewer me in a moment.
     What am I to do?  Help me.

     Signed,
     Don't want to be gored

     Dear Don't want to be gored,

     Call it poetic justice; either fight the boar, or chicken out.

     Signed,
     Francis James Child

     Dear Francis,

     Please help a long-time reader of your column.
     My husband and I arranged a fine marriage for our daughter to a wealthy man from a good family, but she won't even consider the man because she is in love with another.  And where is this other man?  Off to sea, with no expected return date, no fortune, and no proof of his devotion, fidelity, or ability to provide a good life.  No, nothing at all, apart from our daughter's declarations.
     My husband is particularly angry about the situation (strong-headed Irish daughters can be so hard to match) and has given our daughter an ultimatum to marry the man we chose for her.
     For her part, our daughter will only respond that "she'll die if she doesn't get her love"!  This is all she says these days, and as a long-time reader of your column, I know that the more often an Irish girl says that she'll die if such and such doesn't happen, the more likely it is to actually happen.
     I've given up on reasoning with my daughter.  Please help me speak to my husband.

     Signed,
     Trying to halt the inevitable

     Dear Trying to stop the inevitable,

     It is a well-documented fact that the relationship between conditional statements of immanent death made by Irish girls of marrying age and the likelihood of that death are directly proportionate.  Unfortunately, the obstinacy of character that creates these statistics is equaled (and very likely instilled) by the obstinacy of Irish fathers throughout folklore.
     Before you lose all heart, you should examine the situation closely to see if it has truly reached the endgame you describe: Does every verse/conversation between your husband and daughter finish with the exact same tag-line, or does it vary somewhat?  If there is any variation, there may still be time.  Station your daughter's handmaidens along the coast so that they may get word of her true love's return to her the moment it occurs.  Meanwhile, you should delay the date of the wedding as much as you can; It would be a shame for her true love to return only a day too late.

     Signed,
     Francis James Child

     Dear Francis,

     I had a serious summer romance last year.  My girlfriend and I were pretty serious about each - you know how young love can be.  We even made a lover's death-pact to marry each other or else to die trying.  It all seemed so right back then, but I went to sea and discovered that the world is a really big place, and that there are - to use an old phrase - many other fish in the ocean.
     Well, we pulled into the home port yesterday and I noticed my old flame's servants waiting for me and just wringing their hands.  They told me that she had killed herself rather than wed another and that now they would lead me to her so that I could kill myself and die in her arms.
     I told them they were nuts and that my death couldn't bring her back (and hey, her parents never liked me anyway), but they reminded me of "The Pact" we made and practically carried me to the house!
     Do I really have to go through with this?

     Sincerely,
     Been so long from the land

     Dear Been so long from the land,

     Young people seem to be constantly making pacts with each other and, despite having no training beyond conviction of heart, these pacts are usually binding.  It seems to be a natural talent of youth to make them so.
     That said, fulfilling such a serious pact when your heart isn't in it can only lead to troubles of a different sort - in your case reuniting for all eternity with a woman you're less than serious about.  I suggest you reboard your ship and sail away until the tortures of not having lived up to your end of a very serious bargain have thoroughly ravaged your soul and left you an empty and pitiable husk of a man.  When the image of your lost love haunts your every waking thought, keeps you from all rest, and makes life a hollow thing, then you will be ready to return and carry out this pact.
      If you remain untroubled then the pact was not not binding.  Good luck.
     One warning: Make sure you know where your love is buried before you set out; this process can take anywhere from 2 to 10 verses and her servants may all be gone by the time you next return.  Knowing where she is buried may save you a great deal of trouble.

     Signed,
     Francis James Child

     Dear Francis,

     I just got back from the wars and so naturally I wanted to find out if my girlfriend had been faithful to me in my absence.  It's been a few years and I look different from when I left, so when I saw her waiting by the harbor I introduced myself to her as if I were a stranger and asked why she was there.
     She said she was waiting for her love to return from the wars, which was encouraging, but I needed to be sure, so I told her that I had served with her beau, had been with him as he died, and that his dying wish was for me to comfort and console her.
     I was so happy when she said that she could never be comforted by anyone now that her love was dead.  I was fully convinced that she had passed my test.  I revealed who I was and opened my arms to her.
     That's when she decked me!
     What the hell happened?

     Sincerely,
     Suddenly single

     Dear Suddenly single,

     The old "I saw your love die whispering your name and he wished that you would love me in his place" routine may be a time-honored test of fidelity, but it is not without risk.  For this reason it is recommended that the ruse be performed in such a manner that the lady in question sees through the disguise and so is not shocked too dearly.
     It may be too late for you at this point, but this episode can still serve as a warning to all other would-be Martin Guerres not to sucker your lady, lest you be sucker-punched!

     Signed,
     Francis James Child

     Dear Francis,

     My woman has a good, feisty temper.  It's part of her charm really, but she's never been quite this angry before, so I'm turning to you for help.
     I suppose it all began the other year when I began bringing home friends that I made on the road.  Generally I invited them over after battling them, and, well, Marian often had to patch us up a bit or mend the slashes in our clothes.  She never complained much then, but I realize now that she resented it, because last week she let it all out:
     I had come home rather bloody and introduced her to the bold peddler I fought, explaining that he was my cousin that he had nearly killed me in our duel, and that now we were going to crack a few bottles, most merrily.
     Like I said, she really lost it the and started listing all the times that had bothered her; Like when I came home sopping wet with John, or when I came home all bruised with the tinker.
     She says she wants to move away from here, to some place where customs are different.  I want her to be happy, but I'd like to stay within a bow-shot of the old neighborhood.
     I know she reads your column.  Please explain to her that it's perfectly acceptable and wholly natural for men to duel without introducing themselves, and that if they then become fast friends, or discover that they're related, why so much the better!
     I know you could explain it to her.  It always sounds a little silly when I try.

     Signed,
     Used to be merry

     Dear Used to be merry,

     Men are blessed with the innate ability to go from rampant belligerence to fast friendship with no middle ground save a few well-placed sword or quarterstaff thrusts.  Sadly, women do not possess this ability; if they hate someone, they will continue that hate regardless of battles fought.  Moreover, it is the rare woman who can appreciate this trait in a man.   Adding this to her concern for your well being accounts for your current situation.
     As you are obviously not ready to give up meeting new friends through spontaneous armed combat, I suggest you cushion the effects of this practice by not going directly home after your fights.  Taking time to clean your wounds before returning home should help.  While you're at it, why not away to a tavern for your celebratory drinking and only introduce her to your new friends after your blood and spirits have cooled somewhat from the meeting.

     Signed,
     Francis James Child

     Dear Francis,

     I'm having a problem with my neighbor, with his girlfriend actually.  She shows up each day, like clockwork, weeping and wailing and looking all gloomy in her widow's weeds, and frankly I'm getting a little sick of it.
     I worked too hard in life to have to put up with this constant commotion every single day.  All I want to do is turn my face unto the wall, but it's impossible to rest in peace with her around all the time.
     My neighbor thinks that her behaviour is sweet and so he doesn't discourage her.  He's new here - moved in just under a year ago - and hasn't fully cast off his life yet, but this is no excuse for letting her carry on like this.
     Please help.

     Signed,
     Unquiet

     Dear Unquiet,

     Your neighbor's sweetheart sounds truly devoted to the memory of her late beau.  Such dedication is laudable, but if it is truly disturbing your repose, then suggest to your neighbor that he fully embrace her lamentations, and her as well.
     One clay-cold kiss should be all that is required to return the pace to your requiescat.

     Signed,
     Francis James Child

     Dear Francis,

     I recently bought some land and set about preparing it for use.  It was rather overgrown in areas, and one old building had been abandoned for so long that weeds and flowers had completely engulfed it.
     I was about to tear it down (it stands on a prime and fertile plot) when one of the locals comes and explains that I can't, because it's part of some old love story.  The next thing I know the whole town is demanding I leave the wreck alone.  They've started a petition and even called in the Historical Preservation Committee to declare the old shack and its flowers an important landmark.
     I made what I thought was a very generous offer to leave a small memorial patch of flowers, and only remove the shack and weeds, but they insisted that it was the subtle interplay of weeds and flowers that was exactly why it had to remain intact.  Subtle interplay, my ass!  All I see is a stupid love-knot of brambles and roses.
     I consider myself a reasonable man, and as respectful as the next guy, but I paid good money for this place.  The story they're talking about happened generations ago.  How long can they expect to keep this run down patch of weeds as a memorial?!

     Signed,
     Ready with the mower

     Dear Ready with the mower,

     People may come to an end, but good folk songs do not - they are interminable!  Leave those "weeds" alone.

     Signed,
     Francis James Child

A NOTICE FROM FRANCIS JAMES CHILD:

Due to the great volume of letters received I have not been able to answer you all as promptly as I would wish.  I appreciate your patience in this, and would also appreciate if future writers would be as succinct as possible in stating their situation - it simply isn't necessary to give me the over one hundred verses of detail, as one fair maid dwellin' in Dublin town did.  Finally, if anyone knows a Scot named Glenloughie, please ask him to re-send his letter, but to write it in English this time.

Francis James Child, a-ponderin'

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