Part 135
In Mr. Brand’s “Popular Antiquities,” he gives the subjoined Anglo-Norman carol, from a MS. in the British Museum,[415] with the accompanying translation by his “very learned and communicative friend, Mr. Douce; in which it will easily be observed that the translator has necessarily been obliged to amplify, but endeavours every where to preserve the sense of the original.”
_Anglo-Norman Carol._
Seignors ore entendez a nus, De loinz sumes venuz a wous, Pur quere NOEL; Car lem nus dit que en cest hostel Soleit tenir sa feste anuel Ahi cest iur. Deu doint a tuz icels joie d’amurs Qi a DANZ NOEL ferunt honors.
Seignors io vus di por veir KE DANZ NOEL ne uelt aveir Si joie non; E repleni sa maison, De payn, de char, & de peison, Por faire honor. Deu doint a tuz ces joie damur.
Seignors il est crie en lost, Qe cil qui despent bien & tost, E largement; E fet les granz honors sovent Deu li duble quanque il despent Por faire honor. Deu doint a.
Seignors escriez les malveis, Car vus nel les troverez jameis De bone part: Botun, batun, ferun groinard, Car tot dis a le quer cuuard Por faire honor. Deu doint.
NOEL beyt bein li vin Engleis E li Gascoin & li Franceys E l’Angeuin. NOEL fait beivre son veisin, Si quil se dort, le chief en clin, Sovent le ior. Deu doint a tuz cels.
Seignors io vus di par NOEL, E par li sires de cest hostel, Car beuez ben: E io primes beurai le men, E pois apres chescon le soen, Par mon conseil, Si io vus di trestoz Wesseyl Dehaiz eit qui ne dirra Drincheyl.
_Translation._
Now, lordings, listen to our ditty, Strangers coming from afar; Let poor minstrels move your pity, Give us welcome, soothe our care In this mansion, as they tell us, Christmas wassell keeps to day; And, as the king of all good fellows, Reigns with uncontrouled sway.
Lordings, in these realms of pleasure, Father Christmas yearly dwells; Deals out joy with liberal measure, Gloomy sorrow soon dispels: Numerous guests, and viands dainty, Fill the hall and grace the board; Mirth and beauty, peace and plenty, Solid pleasures here afford.
Lordings, ’tis said the liberal mind, That on the needy much bestows, From Heav’n a sure reward shall find; From Heav’n, whence ev’ry blessing flows. Who largely gives with willing hand, Or quickly gives with willing heart, His fame shall spread throughout the land, His memory thence shall ne’er depart.
Lordings, grant not your protection To a base, unworthy crew, But cherish, with a kind affection, Men that are loyal, good, and true. Chace from your hospitable dwelling Swinish souls, that ever crave; Virtue they can ne’er excel in, Gluttons never can be brave.
Lordings, Christmas loves good drinking, Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou,[416] English ale, that drives out thinking, Prince of liquors old or new. Every neighbour shares the bowl, Drinks of the spicy liquor deep, Drinks his fill without controul, Till he drowns his care in sleep.
And now--by Christmas, jolly soul! By this mansion’s generous sire! By the wine, and by the bowl, And all the joys they both inspire! Here I’ll drink a health to all. The glorious task shall first be mine: And ever may foul luck befal Him that to pledge me shall decline!
THE CHORUS.
Hail, father Christmas! hail to thee! Honour’d ever shalt thou be! All the sweets that love bestows, Endless pleasures, wait on those Who, like vassals brave and true, Give to Christmas homage due.
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From what has been observed of Christmas carols in another work, by the editor, a few notices will be subjoined with this remark, that the custom of singing carols at Christmas is very ancient; and though most of those that exist at the present day are deficient of interest to a refined ear, yet they are calculated to awaken tender feelings. For instance, one of them represents the virgin contemplating the birth of the infant, and saying,
“He neither shall be clothed in purple nor in pall, But all in fair linen, as were babies all: He neither shall be rock’d in silver nor in gold, But in a wooden cradle, that rocks on the mould.”
Not to multiply instances at present, let it suffice that in a MS. at the British Museum[417] there is “A song on the holly and the ivy,” beginning,
“Nay, my nay, hyt shal not be I wys, Let holy hafe the maystry, as the maner ys:
“Holy stond in the hall, fayre to behold, Ivy stond without the dore, she ys ful sore acold.
“_Nay my nay_,” &c.
“Holy, & hys mery men, they dawnsyn and they syng, Ivy and hur maydyns, they wepyn & they wryng.
“_Nay my nay_,” &c.
The popularity of carol-singing occasioned the publication of a duodecimo volume in 1642, intituled, “Psalmes or Songs of Sion, turned into the language, and set to the tunes of a strange land. By W(illiam) S(latyer), _intended for Christmas carols_, and fitted to divers of the most noted and common but solemne tunes, every where in this land familiarly used and knowne.” Upon the copy of this book in the British Museum, a former possessor has written the names of some of the tunes to which the author designed them to be sung: for instance, Psalm 6, to the tune of _Jane Shore_; Psalm 19, to _Bar. Forster’s Dreame_; Psalm 43, to _Crimson Velvet_; Psalm 47, to _Garden Greene_; Psalm 84, to _The fairest Nymph of the Valleys_; &c.
In a carol, still sung, called “Dives and Lazarus,” there is this amusing account:
“As it fell it out, upon a day, Rich Dives sicken’d and died, There came two serpents out of hell, His soul therein to guide.
“Rise up, rise up, brother Dives, And come along with me, For you’ve a place provided in hell, To sit upon _a serpent’s_ knee.”
However whimsical this may appear to the reader, he can scarcely conceive its ludicrous effect, when the “serpent’s knee” is solemnly drawn out to its utmost length by a Warwickshire chanter, and as solemnly listened to by the well-disposed crowd, who seem, without difficulty, to believe that Dives sits on a serpent’s _knee_. The idea of sitting on this knee was, perhaps, conveyed to the poet’s mind by old wood-cut representations of Lazarus seated in Abraham’s lap. More anciently, Abraham was frequently drawn holding him up by the sides, to be seen by Dives in hell. In an old book now before me, they are so represented, with the addition of a devil blowing the fire under Dives with a pair of bellows.
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Carols begin to be spoken of as not belonging to this century, and few, perhaps, are aware of the number of these compositions now printed. The editor of the _Every-Day Book_ has upwards of ninety, all at this time, published annually.
This collection he has had little opportunity of increasing, except when in the country he has heard an old woman singing an old carol, and brought back the carol in his pocket with less chance of its escape, than the tune in his head.
Mr. Southey, describing the fight “upon the plain of Patay,” tells of one who fell, as having
“In his lord’s castle dwelt, for many a year, A well-beloved servant: he could sing Carols for Shrove-tide, or for Candlemas, Songs for the wassel, and when the boar’s head Crown’d with gay garlands, and with rosemary, Smoak’d on the Christmas board.”
_Joan of Arc_, b. x. l. 466.
These ditties, which now exclusively enliven the industrious servant-maid, and the humble labourer, gladdened the festivity of royalty in ancient times. Henry VII., in the third year of his reign, kept his Christmas at Greenwich: on the twelfth night, after high mass, the king went to the hall, and kept his estate at the table; in the middle sat the dean, and those of the king’s chapel, who, immediately after the king’s first course, “sang a _carall_.”[418]--Granger innocently observes, that “they that fill the highest and the lowest classes of human life, seem in many respects to be more nearly allied than even themselves imagine. A skilful anatomist would find little or no difference in dissecting the body of a king, and that of the meanest of his subjects; and a judicious philosopher would discover a surprising conformity in discussing the nature and qualities of their minds.”[419]
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The earliest collection of Christmas carols supposed to have been published, is only known from the last leaf of a volume printed by Wynkn de Worde, in the year 1521. This precious scrap was picked up by Tom Hearne; Dr. Rawlinson purchased it at his decease in a volume of tracts, and bequeathed it to the Bodleian library. There are two carols upon it: one, “a caroll of huntynge,” is reprinted in the last edition of Juliana Berners’ “Boke of St. Alban’s;” the other, “a caroll, bringing in the bore’s head,” is in Mr. Dibdin’s “Ames,” with a copy of it as it is now sung in Queen’s-college, Oxford, every Christmas-day. Dr. Bliss, of Oxford, also printed on a sheet for private distribution, a few copies of this and Ant. à Wood’s version of it, with notices concerning the custom, from the hand-writings of Wood and Dr. Rawlinson, in the Bodleian library. Ritson, in his ill-tempered “Observations on Warton’s History of English Poetry,” (1782, 4to. p. 37,) has a Christmas carol upon bringing up the boar’s head, from an ancient MS. in his possession, wholly different from Dr. Bliss’s. The “Bibliographical Miscellanies,” (Oxford, 1813, 4to.) contains seven carols from a collection in one volume in the possession of Dr. Cotton, of Christchurch-college, Oxford, “imprynted at London, in the Powltry, by Richard Kele, dwellyng at the longe shop vnder saynt Myldrede’s Chyrche,” probably “between 1546 and 1552.” I had an opportunity of perusing this exceedingly curious volume, which is supposed to be unique, and has since passed into the hands of Mr. Freeling. There are carols among the _Godly and Spiritual Songs and Balates_, in “Scottish Poems of the sixteenth century,” (1801, 8vo.); and one by Dunbar, from the Bannatyne MS. in “Ancient Scottish Poems.” Others are in Mr. Ellis’s edition of Brand’s “Popular Antiquities,” with several useful notices. Warton’s “History of English Poetry” contains much concerning _old_ carols. Mr. Douce, in his “Illustrations of Shakspeare,” gives a specimen of the carol sung by the shepherds, on the birth of Christ, in one of the Coventry plays. There is a sheet of carols headed thus: “CHRISTUS NATUS EST: _Christ is born_;” with a wood-cut, 10 inches high, by 8½ inches wide, representing the stable at Bethlehem; Christ in the crib, watched by the virgin and Joseph; shepherds kneeling; angels attending; a man playing on the bagpipes; a woman with a basket of fruit on her head; a sheep bleating, and an ox lowing on the ground; a raven croaking, and a crow cawing on the hay-rack; a cock crowing above them; and angels singing in the sky. The animals have labels from their mouths, bearing Latin inscriptions. Down the side of the wood-cut is the following account and explanation: “A religious man, inventing the conceits of both birds and beasts, drawn in the picture of our Saviour’s birth, doth thus express them: the cock croweth, _Christus natus est_, Christ is born. The raven asked, _Quando?_ When? The crow replied, _Hac nocte_, This night. The ox cryeth out, _Ubi? Ubi?_ Where? where? The sheep bleated out, _Bethlehem_, Bethlehem. A voice from heaven sounded, _Gloria in Excelsis_, Glory be on high.--London: printed and sold by J. Bradford, in Little Britain, the corner house over against the Pump, 1701. Price One Penny.” This carol is in the possession of Mr. Upcott.
The custom of singing carols at Christmas prevails in Ireland to the present time. In Scotland, where no church feasts have been kept since the days of John Knox, the custom is unknown. In Wales it is still preserved to a greater extent, perhaps, than in England; at a former period, the Welsh had carols adapted to most of the ecclesiastical festivals, and the four seasons of the year, but in our times they are limited to that of Christmas. After the turn of midnight at Christmas-eve, service is performed in the churches, followed by the singing of carols to the harp. Whilst the Christmas holidays continue, they are sung in like manner in the houses, and there are carols especially adapted to be sung at the doors of the houses by visiters before they enter. _Lffyr Carolan_, or the book of carols, contains sixty-six for Christmas, and five summer carols; _Blodeugerdd Cymrii_, or the “Anthology of Wales,” contains forty-eight Christmas carols, nine summer carols, three May carols, one winter carol, one nightingale carol, and a carol to Cupid. The following verse of a carol for Christmas is literally translated from the first mentioned volume. The poem was written by Hugh Morris, a celebrated song-writer during the commonwealth, and until the early part of the reign of William III:--
“To a saint let us not pray, to a pope let us not kneel; On Jesu let us depend, and let us discreetly watch To preserve our souls from Satan with his snares; Let us not in morning invoke any one else.”
With the succeeding translation of a _Welsh wassail song_, the observer of manners will, perhaps, be pleased. In Welsh, the lines of each couplet, repeated inversely, still keep the same sense.
_A Carol for the Eve of St. Mary’s Day._
This is the season when, agreeably to custom, That it was an honour to send _wassail_ By the old people who were happy In their time, and loved pleasure; And we are now purposing To be like them, every one merry: Merry and foolish, youths are wont to be, Being reproached for squandering abroad. I know that every mirth will end Too soon of itself; Before it is ended, here comes The _wassail_ of Mary, for the sake of the time: N---- [420] place the maid immediately In the chair before us;
And let every body in the house be content that we May drink _wassail_ to virginity, To remember the time, in faithfulness, When fair Mary was at the sacrifice, After the birth to her of a son, Who delivered every one, through his good will From their sins, without doubt. Should there be an inquiry who made the carol, He is a man whose trust is fully on God, That he shall go to heaven to the effulgent Mary, Towards filling the orders where she also is.
THOMAS EVANS.
In the rage for “collecting” almost every thing, it is surprising that “collectors” have almost overlooked carols as a class of popular poetry. To me they have been objects of interest from circumstances which occasionally determine the direction of pursuit. The wood-cuts round the annual sheets, and the melody of “_God rest you merry gentlemen_,” delighted my childhood; and I still listen with pleasure to the shivering carolist’s evening chant towards the clean kitchen window decked with holly, the flaring fire showing the whitened hearth, and reflecting gleams of light from the surfaces of the dresser utensils.
Davies Gilbert, Esq. F.R.S. F.A.S. &c. has published “Ancient Christmas carols, with the _tunes_ to which they were formerly sung in the west of England.” Mr. Gilbert says, that “on Christmas-day these carols took the place of psalms in all the churches, especially at afternoon service, the whole congregation joining: and at the end it was usual for the parish clerk, to declare in a loud voice, his wishes for a merry Christmas and a happy new year.”
In “Poor Robin’s Almanac,” for 1695, there is a Christmas carol, which is there called, “_A Christmas Song_,” beginning thus:--
Now thrice welcome, Christmas, Which brings us good cheer, Minced-pies and plumb-porridge, Good ale and strong beer; With pig, goose, and capon, The best that may be, So well doth the weather And our stomachs agree.
Observe how the chimneys Do smoak all about, The cooks are providing For dinner, no doubt; But those on whose tables No victuals appear, O, may they keep Lent All the rest of the year!
With holly and ivy So green and so gay; We deck up our houses As fresh as the day. With bays and rosemary And laurel compleat, And every one now Is a king in conceit.
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So much only concerning carols for the present. But more shall be said hereon in the year 1826, if the editor of the _Every-Day Book_ live, and retain his faculties to that time. He now, however, earnestly requests of every one of its readers in every part of England, to collect every carol that may be singing at Christmas time in the year 1825, and convey these carols to him at their earliest convenience, with accounts of manners and customs peculiar to their neighbourhood, which are not already noticed in this work. He urges and solicits this most earnestly and anxiously, and prays his readers not to forget that he is a serious and needy suitor. They see the nature of the work, and he hopes that any thing and every thing that they think pleasant or remarkable, they will find some means of communicating to him without delay. The most agreeable presents he can receive at any season, will be contributions and hints that may enable him to blend useful information with easy and cheerful amusement.
CUSTOMS ON ~Christmas Eve.~
Mr. Coleridge writing his “_Friend_,” from Ratzeburg, in the north of Germany, mentions a practice on Christmas-eve very similar to some on December the 6th, St. Nicholas’-day. Mr. Coleridge says, “There is a Christmas custom here which pleased and interested me. The children make little presents to their parents, and to each other, and the parents to their children. For three or four months before Christmas the girls are all busy, and the boys save up their pocket-money to buy these presents. What the present is to be is cautiously kept secret; and the girls have a world of contrivances to conceal it--such as working when they are out on visits, and the others are not with them--getting up in the morning before day-light, &c. Then, on the evening before Christmas-day, one of the parlours is lighted up by the children, into which the parents must not go; a great yew bough is fastened on the table at a little distance from the wall, a multitude of little tapers are fixed in the bough, but not so as to burn it till they are nearly consumed, and coloured paper, &c. hangs and flutters from the twigs. Under this bough the children lay out in great order the presents they mean for their parents, still concealing in their pockets what they intend for each other. Then the parents are introduced, and each presents his little gift; they then bring out the remainder one by one, from their pockets, and present them with kisses and embraces. Where I witnessed this scene, there were eight or nine children, and the eldest daughter and the mother wept aloud for joy and tenderness; and the tears ran down the face of the father, and he clasped all his children so tight to his breast, it seemed as if he did it to stifle the sob that was rising within it. I was very much affected. The shadow of the bough and its appendages on the wall, and arching over on the ceiling, made a pretty picture; and then the raptures of the _very_ little ones, when at last the twigs and their needles began to take fire and _snap_--O it was a delight to them!--On the next day, (_Christmas-day_) in the great parlour, the parents lay out on the table the presents for the children; a scene of more sober joy succeeds; as on this day, after an old custom, the mother says privately to each of her daughters, and the father to his sons, that which he has observed most praiseworthy and that which was most faulty in their conduct. Formerly, and still in all the smaller towns and villages throughout North Germany, these presents were sent by all the parents to some one fellow, who, in high buskins, a white robe, a mask, and an enormous flax wig, personates _Knecht Rupert_, _i. e._ the servant Rupert. On Christmas-night he goes round to every house, and says, that Jesus Christ, his master, sent him thither. The parents and elder children receive him with great pomp and reverence, while the little ones are most terribly frightened. He then inquires for the children, and, according to the character which he hears from the parents, he gives them the intended present, as if they came out of heaven from Jesus Christ. Or, if they should have been bad children, he gives the parents a rod, and, in the name of his master, recommends them to use it frequently. About seven or eight years old the children are let into the secret, and it is curious how faithfully they keep it.”
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A correspondent to the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” says, that when he was a school-boy, it was a practice on Christmas-eve to roast apples on a string till they dropt into a large bowl of spiced ale, which is the whole composition of _lamb’s wool_. Brand thinks, that this popular beverage obtained its name from the softness of the composition, and he quotes from Shakspeare’s “Midsummer-Night’s Dream,”
“Sometimes lurk I in a gossip’s bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab; And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, And on her wither’d dew-lap pour the ale.”
It was formerly a custom in England on Christmas-eve to _wassail_, or wish health to the apple-tree. Herrick enjoins to--
“Wassaile the trees, that they may beare You many a plum, and many a peare; For more or lesse fruits they will bring, And you do give them wassailing.”
In 1790, it was related to Mr. Brand, by sir Thomas Acland, at Werington, that in his neighbourhood on Christmas-eve it was then customary for the country people to sing a wassail or drinking-song, and throw the toast from the wassail-bowl to the apple-trees in order to have a fruitful year.
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“Pray remember,” says T. N. of Cambridge, to the editor of the _Every-Day Book_, “that it is a Christmas custom from time immemorial to send and receive presents and congratulations from one friend to another; and, could the number of _baskets_ that enter London at this season be ascertained, it would be astonishing; exclusive of those for sale, the number and weight of turkeys only, would surpass belief. From a historical account of Norwich it appears, that between Saturday morning and the night of Sunday, December 22, 1793, one thousand seven hundred turkeys, weighing 9 tons, 2 cwt. 2 lbs. value 680_l._ were sent from Norwich to London; and two days after half as many more.”
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“Now,” says Stevenson, in his _Twelve Months_, 1661, “capons and hens, besides turkeys, geese, ducks, with beef and mutton, must all die; for in twelve days a multitude of people will not be fed with a little. Now plums and spice, sugar and honey, square it among pies and broth. Now a journeyman cares not a rush for his master, though he begs his plum-porridge all the twelve days. Now or never must the music be in tune, for the youth must dance and sing to get them a heat, while the aged sit by the fire. The country-maid leaves half her market, and must be sent again if she forgets a pack of cards on Christmas-eve. Great is the contention of holly and ivy, whether master or dame wears the breeches; and if the cook do not lack wit, he will sweetly lick his fingers.”
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