Men of genius have devoted some of their hours, and even governments
have occasionally assisted, to render the people happier by song and
dance. The Grecians had songs appropriated to the various trades. Songs
of this nature would shorten the manufacturer's tedious task-work, and
solace the artisan at his solitary occupation. A beam of gay fancy
kindling his mind, a playful change of measures delighting his ear, even
a moralising verse to cherish his better feelings--these ingeniously
adapted to each profession, and some to the display of patriotic
characters, and national events, would contribute something to public
happiness. Such themes are worthy of a patriotic bard, of the Southeys
for their hearts, and the Moores for their verse.
Fletcher of Saltoun said, "If a man were permitted to make all the
ballads, he need not care who should make all the laws of a nation." The
character of a people is preserved in their national songs. "God save
the King" and "Rule Britannia" were long our English national airs.
"The story of Amphion building Thebes with his lyre was not a fable,"
says Dr. Clarke, "At Thebes, in the harmonious adjustment of those
masses which remain belonging to the ancient walls, we saw enough to
convince us that this story was no fable; for it was a very ancient
custom to _carry on immense labour by an accompaniment of music and
singing_. The custom still exists both in Egypt and Greece. It might,
therefore, be said that the _Walls of Thebes_ were built at the sound of
the only musical instrument then in use; because, according to the
_custom of the country_, the lyre was necessary for the accomplishment
of the work."[57] The same custom appears to exist in Africa. Lander
notices at Yàoorie that the "labourers in their plantations were
attended by a drummer, that they might be excited by the sound of his
instrument to work well and briskly."[58]
Athenæus[59] has preserved the Greek names of different songs as sung by
various trades, but unfortunately none of the songs themselves. There
was a song for the corn-grinders; another for the workers in wool;
another for the weavers. The reapers had their carol; the herdsmen had a
song which an ox-driver of Sicily had composed; the kneaders, and the
bathers, and the galley-rowers, were not without their chant. We have
ourselves a song of the weavers, which Ritson has preserved in his
"Ancient Songs;" and it may be found in the popular chap-book of "The
Life of Jack of Newbury;" and the songs of anglers, of old Izaak Walton,
and Charles Cotton, still retain their freshness.
Among the Greeks, observed Bishop Heber, the hymn which placed Harmodius
in the green and flowery island of the Blessed, was chanted by the
potter to his wheel, and enlivened the labours of the Piræan mariner.
Dr. Johnson is the only writer I recollect who has noticed something of
this nature which he observed in the Highlands. "The strokes of the
sickle were timed by the modulation of the _harvest song_, in which all
their voices were united. They accompany every action which can be done
in equal time with an _appropriate strain_, which has, they say, not
much meaning, but its effects are regularity and cheerfulness. There is
an _oar song_ used by the Hebrideans."
But if these chants "have not much meaning," they will not produce the
desired effect of touching the heart, as well as giving vigour to the
arm of the labourer. The gondoliers of Venice while away their long
midnight hours on the water with the stanzas of Tasso. Fragments of
Homer are sung by the Greek sailors of the Archipelago; the severe
labour of the trackers, in China, is accompanied with a song which
encourages their exertions, and renders these simultaneous. Mr. Ellis
mentions that the sight of the lofty pagoda of Tong-chow served as a
great topic of incitement in the song of the trackers, toiling against
the stream, to their place of rest. The canoemen, on the Gold Coast, in
a very dangerous passage, "on the back of a high curling wave, paddling
with all their might, singing or rather shouting their wild song, follow
it up," says M'Leod, who was a lively witness of this happy combination
of song, of labour, and of peril, which he acknowledged was "a very
terrific process." Our sailors at Newcastle, in heaving their anchors,
have their "Heave and ho! rum-below!" but the Sicilian mariners must be
more deeply affected by their beautiful hymn to the Virgin. A society,
instituted in Holland for general good, do not consider among their
least useful projects that of having printed at a low price a collection
of _songs for sailors_.
It is extremely pleasing, as it is true, to notice the honest exultation
of an excellent ballad-writer, C. Dibdin, in his Professional Life. "I
have learnt my songs have been considered as an object of national
consequence; that they have been the solace of sailors and long
voyagers, in storms, in battle; and that they have been quoted in
mutinies, to the restoration of order and discipline."[60] The
Portuguese soldiery in Ceylon, at the siege of Colombo, when pressed
with misery and the pangs of hunger, during their marches, derived not
only consolation, but also encouragement, by rehearsing the stanzas of
the Lusiad.
We ourselves have been a great ballad nation, and once abounded with
songs of the people; not, however, of this particular species, but
rather of narrative poems. They are described by Puttenham, a critic in
the reign of Elizabeth, as "small and popular songs sung by those
_Cantabanqui_, upon benches and barrels' heads, where they have no other
audience than boys, or country fellows that pass by them in the streets;
or else by blind harpers, or such like tavern minstrels, that give a fit
of mirth for a groat." Such were these "Reliques of Ancient English
Poetry," which Selden collected, Pepys preserved, and Percy published.
Ritson, our great poetical antiquary in these sort of things, says that
few are older than the reign of James I. The more ancient songs of the
people perished by having been printed in single sheets, and by their
humble purchasers having no other library to preserve them than the
walls on which they pasted them. Those we have consist of a succeeding
race of ballads, chiefly revived or written by Richard Johnson, the
author of the well-known romance of the Seven Champions, and Delony, the
writer of Jack of Newbury's Life, and the "Gentle Craft," who lived in
the time of James and Charles.[61] One Martin Parker was a most
notorious ballad scribbler in the reign of Charles I. and the Protector.
These writers, in their old age, collected their songs into little penny
books, called "Garlands," some of which have been republished by Ritson;
and a recent editor has well described them as "humble and amusing
village strains, founded upon the squabbles of a wake, tales of untrue
love, superstitious rumours, or miraculous traditions of the hamlet."
They enter into the picture of our manners, as much as folio chronicles.
These songs abounded in the good old times of Elizabeth and James; for
Hall in his Satires notices them as
Sung to the wheel, and sung unto the payle;
that is, sung by maidens spinning, or milking; and indeed Shakspeare had
described them as "old and plain," chanted by
The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their threads with bones.
_Twelfth Night_.
They were the favourites of the Poet of Nature, who takes every
opportunity to introduce them into the mouths of his clown, his fool,
and his itinerant Autolycus. When the musical Dr. Burney, who had
probably not the slightest conception of their nature, and perhaps as
little taste for their rude and wild simplicity, ventured to call the
songs of Autolycus, "two _nonsensical_ songs," the musician called down
on himself one of the bitterest notes from Steevens that ever
commentator penned against a profane scoffer.[62]
Whatever these songs were, it is evident they formed a source of
recreation to the solitary task-worker. But as the more masculine trades
had their own songs, whose titles only appear to have reached us, such
as "The Carman's Whistle," "Watkin's Ale," "Chopping Knives," they were
probably appropriated to the respective trades they indicate. The tune
of the "Carman's Whistle" was composed by Bird, and the favourite tune
of "Queen Elizabeth" may be found in the collection called "Queen
Elizabeth's Virginal Book." One who has lately heard it played says,
"that it has more air than the other execrable compositions in her
Majesty's book, something resembling a French quadrille."
The feeling our present researches would excite would naturally be most
strongly felt in small communities, where the interest of the governors
is to contribute to the individual happiness of the laborious classes.
The Helvetic society requested Lavater to compose the
_Schweitzerlieder_, or Swiss Songs, which are now sung by the youth of
many of the cantons; and various Swiss poets have successfully composed
on national subjects, associated with their best feelings. In such
paternal governments as was that of Florence under the Medici, we find
that songs and dances for the people engaged the muse of Lorenzo, who
condescended to delight them with pleasant songs composed in popular
language; the example of such a character was followed by the men of
genius of the age. These ancient songs, often adapted to the different
trades, opened a vein of invention in the new characters, and allusions,
the humorous equivoques, and, sometimes, by the licentiousness of
popular fancy. They were collected in 1559, under the title of "Canti
Carnascialeschi," and there is a modern edition, in 1750, in two volumes
quarto. It is said they sing to this day a popular one by Lorenzo,
beginning
Ben venga Maggio
E 'l gonfalon selvaggio,[63]
which has all the florid brilliancy of an Italian spring.
The most delightful songs of this nature would naturally be found among
a people whose climate and whose labours alike inspire a general
hilarity; and the vineyards of France have produced a class of songs, of
excessive gaiety and freedom, called _Chansons de Vendange_. Le
Grand-d'Assoucy describes them in his _Histoire de la Vie privée des
Français_. "The men and women, each with a basket on their arm, assemble
at the foot of the hill; there stopping, they arrange themselves in a
circle. The chief of this band tunes up a joyous song, whose burthen is
chorused: then they ascend, and, dispersed in the vineyard, they work
without interrupting their tasks, while new couplets often resound from
some of the vine-dressers; sometimes intermixed with a sudden jest at a
traveller. In the evening, their supper scarcely over, their joy
recommences, they dance in a circle, and sing some of those songs of
free gaiety, which the moment excuses, known by the name of _vineyard
songs_. The gaiety becomes general; masters, guests, friends, servants,
all dance together; and in this manner a day of labour terminates, which
one might mistake for a day of diversion. It is what I have witnessed in
Champagne, in a land of vines, far different from the country where the
labours of the harvest form so painful a contrast."
The extinction of those songs which formerly kept alive the gaiety of
the domestic circle, whose burthens were always chorused, is lamented by
the French antiquary. "Our fathers had a custom to amuse themselves at
the dessert of a feast by a joyous song of this nature. Each in his turn
sung--all chorused." This ancient gaiety was sometimes gross and noisy;
but he prefers it to the tame decency of our times--these smiling, not
laughing days of Lord Chesterfield.
On ne rit plus, on sourit aujourd'hui;
Et nos plaisirs sont voisins de l'ennui.
These are the old French _Vaudevilles_, formerly sung at meals by the
company. Count de Grammont is mentioned by Hamilton as being
Agréable et vif en propos;
Célèbre diseur de bon mots,
_Recueil vivant d'antiques Vaudevilles_.
These _Vaudevilles_ were originally invented by a fuller of _Vau de
Vire_, or the valley by the river _Vire_, and were sung by his men as
they spread their cloths on the banks of the river. They were songs
composed on some incident or adventure of the day. At first these gay
playful effusions were called the songs of _Vau de Vire_, till they
became known as _Vaudevilles_. Boileau has well described them:--
La liberté franchise en ses vers se déploie;
Cet enfant de plaisir veut naître dans la joie.
It is well known how the attempt ended, of James I. and his unfortunate
son, by the publication of their "Book of Sports," to preserve the
national character from the gloom of fanatical puritanism; among its
unhappy effects there was however one not a little ludicrous. The
Puritans, offended by the gentlest forms of mirth, and every day
becoming more sullen, were so shocked at the simple merriment of the
people, that they contrived to parody these songs into spiritual ones;
and Shakspeare speaks of the Puritan of his day "singing psalms to
hornpipes." As Puritans are the same in all times, the Methodists in our
own repeated the foolery, and set their hymns to popular tunes and jigs,
which one of them said "were too good for the devil." They have sung
hymns to the air of "The beds of sweet roses," &c. Wesley once, in the
pulpit, described himself, in his old age, in the well known ode of
Anacreon, by merely substituting his own name![64] There have been
Puritans among other people as well as our own: the same occurrence took
place both in Italy and France. In Italy, the Carnival songs were turned
into pious hymns; the hymn _Jesu fammi morire_ is sung to the music of
_Vaga bella e gentile_--_Crucifisso a capo chino_ to that of _Una donna
d'amor fino_, one of the most indecent pieces in the _Canzoni a ballo_;
and the hymn beginning
Ecco 'l Messia
E la Madre Maria,
was sung to the gay tune of Lorenzo de' Medici,
Ben venga Maggio,
E 'l gonfalon selvaggio.
Athenæus notices what we call slang or flash songs. He tells us that
there were poets who composed songs in the dialect of the mob; and who
succeeded in this kind of poetry, adapted to their various characters.
The French call such songs _Chansons à la Vadé_; the style of the
_Poissardes_ is ludicrously applied to the gravest matters of state, and
convey the popular feelings in the language of the populace. This sort
of satirical song is happily defined,
Il est l'esprit de ceux qui n'en ont pas.
Athenæus has also preserved songs, sung by petitioners who went about on
holidays to collect alms. A friend of mine, with taste and learning, has
discovered in his researches "The Crow Song" and "The Swallow Song," and
has transfused their spirit in a happy version. I preserve a few
striking ideas.
The collectors for "The Crow" sung:
My good worthy masters, a pittance bestow,
Some oatmeal, or barley, or wheat for _the Crow_.
A loaf, or a penny, or e'en what you will;--
From the poor man, a grain of his salt may suffice,
For your Crow swallows all, and is not over-nice.
And the man who can now give his grain, and no more,
May another day give from a plentiful store.--
Come, my lad, to the door, Plutus nods to our wish,
And our sweet little mistress comes out with a dish;
She gives us her figs, and she gives us a smile--
Heaven send her a husband!--
And a boy to be danced on his grandfather's knee,
And a girl like herself all the joy of her mother,
Who may one day present her with just such another.
Thus we carry our Crow-song to door after door,
Alternately chanting we ramble along,
And we treat all who give, or give not, with a song.
Swallow-singing, or Chelidonising, as the Greek term is, was another
method of collecting eleemosynary gifts, which took place in the month
Boedromion, or August.
The Swallow, the Swallow is here,
With his back so black, and his belly so white,
He brings on the pride of the year,
With the gay months of love, and the days of delight.
Come bring out your good humming stuff,
Of the nice tit-bits let the Swallow partake;
And a slice of the right Boedromion cake.
So give, and give quickly,--
Or we'll pull down the door from its hinges:
Or we'll steal young madam away!
But see! we're a merry boy's party,
And the Swallow, the Swallow is here!
These songs resemble those of our own ancient mummers, who to this day,
in honour of Bishop Blaize, the Saint of Woolcombers, go about chanting
on the eves of their holidays.[65] A custom long existed in this country
to elect a Boy-Bishop in almost every parish;[66] the Montem at Eton
still prevails for the Boy-Captain; and there is a closer connexion,
perhaps, between the custom which produced the "Songs of the Crow and
the Swallow," and our Northern mummeries, than may be at first
suspected. The Pagan Saturnalia, which the Swallow song by its pleasant
menaces resembles, were afterwards disguised in the forms adopted by the
early Christians; and such are the remains of the Roman Catholic
religion, in which the people were long indulged in their old taste for
mockery and mummery. I must add in connexion with our main inquiry, that
our own ancient beggars had their songs, in their old cant language,
some of which are as old as the Elizabethan period, and many are
fancifully characteristic of their habits and their feelings.