instruments of the most unskilful waits,--if it were but remote enough
to keep its asperities out of the ear, and send us only its floating
tones,--has brought Shakspeare into our hearts again:--
"_Portia._ Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
_Nerissa._ Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam."
The waits of to-day are the remote and degenerated successors of those
ancient bards who filled an important place in the establishments of
princes and nobles, as also of those wandering members of the
fraternity who, having no fixed position, carried their gift of music
from place to place as the tournament or the festival invited. Those of
our readers who have much acquaintance with the old chroniclers have not
to be told by us that these latter were frequently drawn together in
considerable numbers by the Christmas celebrations. The name "wait," or
"wayte," itself is of great antiquity amongst us, and appears to have
been the title given to some member of the band of minstrels who either
replaced the ancient minstrel-chronicler in the royal establishments, or
was probably under his direction, the duty of which particular member it
was to pass at night from door to door of the chambers and pipe the
watches upon some species of instrument. As early as the reign of Edward
III. we have mention of this individual minstrel by his title of
"wayte," and in the subsequent ordinances for royal households the name
frequently occurs. Dr. Burney, in his "History of Music," quotes from
the "Liber niger domus regis," of Edward IV.'s time, a full description
of the duties, privileges, and perquisites of this ancient officer. It
is probably from this member of the royal household and his office that
the corporations for towns borrowed their earliest appointment of
watchmen; and the ancestors of those ancient gentlemen whose most sweet
voices are amongst the lost sounds of the metropolis, and whose
mysterious cries will soon, we fear, be a dead language, were no doubt
in their original institution minstrels or waits. The sworn waits are,
we believe, still attached to many corporations (although some of their
duties have been alienated, and some of their prerogatives usurped), and
amongst others to that of the City of London. The bellman and those
"wandering voices," the watchmen, where they still exist, have, however,
a title to the same high and far descent, and have succeeded to most of
the offices of the ancient waits. It would seem, too, that both these
latter important personages have at all times had it in view to assert
their claim to a minstrel origin, their announcements being generally
chanted in a species of music quite peculiar to themselves, and such as
the world can never hope to hear again when these gentry shall be
extinct. "Oh, what a voice is silent!" wrote Barry Cornwall long before
the introduction of the new police into our streets; and the passionate
exclamation must surely have originated in a prophetic vision of the
extinction of the Dogberry who piped the night-watches in Bedford
Square. As for those wandering musicians who charm the long nights of
the Christmas time with _unofficial_ music, and are waits by courtesy,
they bear the same relation to the corporation minstrels of modern times
as did the travelling bards of former days to the ancient minstrels who
were established in the households of nobles or of kings. The waits
still on some occasions close their performance by calling the hour,
and by certain other announcements descriptive of the weather or
characteristic of the season.
[Illustration: WAITS.--_Page 197._]
The sacred origin and meaning of this practice have, however, in modern
days been a good deal lost sight of by these uncertificated harmonists
in their selection of tunes. In London, particularly, the appropriate
music of religious celebration, which in awaking the sleeper should
bring the lessons of the season directly to his heart, are (excepting
perhaps on the eve of the Nativity itself) most frequently supplanted by
the airs of the theatre; and the waits for the most part favor us by
night with repetitions of the melodies with which the barrel-organists
have labored to make us familiarly acquainted during the day. It is with
some such strain that the group of instrumentalists, by whom our artist
has here represented these peripatetic musicians, appear to be regaling
their neighborhood, in so far as we may venture to judge of the
character of the music, by the accompaniment which it is receiving from
the lady in the distance. Not that we could by any means have
conjectured from the appearance of the performers themselves that the
air, however profane, had been at all of the lively, unless what poor
Matthews called the "deadly lively," kind,--and, in fact, the vicinity
in which the lady appears may perhaps suggest that her joyous
inspiration is not derived wholly from the music. She appears to be
dancing "unto her own heart's song." If we may presume to argue from the
aspects and attitudes of the gentlemen of the bass-viol and flute, he of
the trombone (who is evidently performing with considerable energy)
appears to have got a good way before his companions without being at
all conscious of it; and indeed there is something about his
accoutrements, if carefully inspected, which seems to hint that the
source of his vigor, and perhaps of his unconsciousness, is of the same
kind with that of the lady's liveliness. We have in the case of each a
sort of insinuation as to the cause of the _spirited_ character of the
performances, and in that of our friend with the trombone it seems a
good deal more clear that his pocket has contributed to the supply of
his instrument than that his instrument will ever do much for the supply
of his pocket. As for the violin, it is clearly in the enjoyment of a
sinecure at this late hour, the sensitive performer having apparently
lulled himself to sleep with his own music. "Poor knave, I blame thee
not; thou art o'er watched!"
"O murd'rous slumber,
Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy
That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night;
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee."
But we will not answer for the old gentleman with the water-jug, who
looks down so benignantly from that window overhead. He seems about to
furnish an illustration of the assertion that--
"The heart that music cannot melt,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;"
and appears to have conceived a stratagem against the group below which,
if carried into successful execution on this winter night, will probably
_spoil_ more than the music. It bids fair at once to waken the
violin-player and to silence the trombone.
The practice of hailing the Nativity with music, in commemoration of the
song of the angels, is in full observance in Roman Catholic countries as
well as in our own. There are, we fancy, few of our readers who have not
had opportunities of listening to the divine strains which mingle in the
Roman services that usher in the blessed morning itself. The _noëls_ of
France are of the same character as the Christmas carols of England; and
the visits of our street musicians at this season are closely resembled
by the wanderings of the Italian _pifferari_. These _pifferari_ are
Calabrian shepherds who come down from the mountains at the season of
Advent, and enter the Italian cities, saluting with their hill music the
shrines of the Virgin and Child which adorn the streets. Of these rude
minstrels Lady Morgan, in her "Italy," gives some account, and states
that having frequently observed them stopping to play before the shop of
a carpenter in Rome, her inquiries on the subject were answered by the
information that the intention of this part of their performance, was to
give his due share of honor to Saint Joseph. Our friend Mr. Hone, in his
"Every-Day Book," has given, from an old print in his possession, a
representation of this practice, in which two of these mountaineers are
playing before the shrine of the Virgin. The practice is continued till
the anniversary day of the Nativity.
With modern carol-singing there are few of our readers, in town or in
country (for the practice, like that of which we have just spoken, is
still very general), who are not well acquainted. For some curious
antiquarian information on the subject we must refer them to Mr.
Sandys's Introduction, and to a paper in Mr. Hone's book of "Ancient
Mysteries." The word itself is derived by Brand, after Bourne, from
_cantare_, to sing, and _rola_, an interjection of joy; and although in
vulgar acceptance it has come to be understood as implying particularly
those anthems by which the Christmas-tide is distinguished, it has at
all times been properly applied to all songs which are sung upon any
occasion of festival or rejoicing. In strictness, therefore, even in its
application to the musical celebrations of Advent, a distinction should
be drawn between those carols which are of a joyous or festive
character, and those more solemn ones which would be better described by
the title of Christmas hymns.
The practice itself, as applied to religious commemoration, is drawn
from the very first ages of the Church. It is frequently referred to in
the Apostolic writings, and the celebrated letter of the younger Pliny
to the Emperor Trajan, in the seventh year of the second Christian
century, mentions, amongst the habits of the primitive Christians, their
assembling at stated times "to sing among themselves alternately a hymn
to Christ, as to God." Such a practice, however, constitutes no
peculiarity of the new worship, hymns of praise to their deities having
made a portion of the rites of most religions. Indeed, in the more
severe times of the Early Church there are prohibitions against this
form of worship, as against several other practices to which we have
alluded, on the express ground of its resemblance to one of the customs
of the pagan celebration.
The custom of celebrating the festivities of the season by the singing
of carols in these islands, appears to have mingled with the Christmas
observances from the earliest period. We have specimens of the carols
themselves of a remote date, and have already given an extract from one,
the manuscript of which, in the British Museum, is dated as far back as
the thirteenth century. There are evidences of the universality of the
practice in the fifteenth century; and the great popularity of these
songs about this time is proved by the fact of a collection thereof
having been printed in the early part of the following century by
Wynkyn de Worde. It is to the Puritans that we appear to have been
indebted for the introduction of the religious carol. Those enemies of
all mirth, even in its most innocent or valuable forms, finding the
practice of carol-singing at this festive time too general and rooted to
be dealt with by interdiction, appear to have endeavored to effect their
objects by directing it into a channel of their own, and probably
retaining the ancient airs, to have adapted them to the strange
religious ballads, of which we must give our readers a few specimens.
The entire version of the Psalms of David made by Sternhold and Hopkins
was published about the middle of the sixteenth century; and some time
before the middle of the seventeenth a duodecimo volume appeared, under
the title of "Psalmes or Songs of Zion, turned into the language and set
to the tunes of a strange land, by W. S. [William Slatyr], intended for
Christmas Carols and fitted to divers of the most noted and common but
solemne tunes everywhere in this land familiarly used and knowne."
Of these old ballads of both kinds, many (and snatches of more) have
survived to the present day, and may be heard, particularly in the
Northern counties of England, ringing through the frosty air of the long
winter nights, in the shrill voices of children, for several weeks
before Christmas, probably, too, to the old traditional tunes. They
are, however, as might be expected of compositions which have no more
substantial depositary than the memories of the humble classes of the
young, full of corruptions, which render some of them nearly
unintelligible. The difficulty of restoring these old carols in their
original forms is becoming yearly greater, in consequence of the modern
carols, which are fast replacing them by a sort of authority. In country
places many of the more polished carols, of modern composition, find
their way into the Church services of this season; and amongst the
singers who practise this manner of appealing to the charities of the
season with most success are the children of the Sunday-schools and the
choristers of the village church. These, with their often sweet voices,
bring to our doors the more select hymns and the musical training which
they have gathered for more sacred places; and from a group like that
which stands at the parsonage door in our plate, we are more likely to
hear some carol of Heber's, some such beautiful anthem as that
beginning, "Hark! the herald angels sing," than the strange, rambling
old Christmas songs which we well remember when we were boys. These
latter, however, occasionally are not without a wild beauty of their
own. We quote a fragment of one of them from memory. We think it
begins:--
"The moon shines bright, and the stars give light,
A little before the day;"
and wanders on somewhat after the following unconnected fashion:--
"Awake, awake, good people all!
Awake, and you shall hear
How Christ our Lord died on the cross
For those he loved so dear.
"O fair, O fair Jerusalem!
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my griefs be at an end,
That I thy tents may see!
"The fields were green as green could be
When, from his glorious seat,
The Lord our God he watered us
With his heavenly good and sweet.
"And for the saving of our souls
Christ died upon the cross!
We never shall do for Jesus Christ
What he has done for us!
"The life of man is but a span,
And cut down in its flower;
We're here to-day, and gone to-morrow,
We're all dead in an hour.
"Oh, teach well your children, men!
The while that you are here,
It will be better for your souls,
When your corpse lies on the bier.
"To-day you may be alive, dear man,
With many a thousand pound;
To-morrow you may be a dead man,
And your corpse laid under ground,--
"With a turf at your head, dear man,
And another at your feet.
Your good deeds and your bad ones
They will together meet.
"My song is done, and I must begone,
I can stay no longer here;
God bless you all, both great and small,
And send you a happy new year."
Our Lancashire readers know that a similar wish to that expressed in the
two last lines is generally delivered in recitative at the close of each
carol, or before the singers abandon our doors,--which wish, however, we
have heard finally changed into a less quotable ejaculation in cases
where the carolists had been allowed to sing unregarded.
The gradual decay into which these ancient religious ballads are rapidly
falling was in some measure repaired by Mr. Davies Gilbert in 1823, who
published a collection containing upwards of twenty carols in a restored
state, with the tunes to which it was usual to sing them in the West of
England. Of Welsh carols various collections are mentioned both by Hone
and by Sandys, and in that country the practice is in better
preservation than even in England. In Ireland, too, it exists to the
present day, although we have not met with any collection of Irish
carols; and in France, where there are numerous collections under the
title of _noëls_, the custom is universal. In Scotland, however, it was
extinguished, with the other Christmas practices, by the thunders of
John Knox and his precisians, and we believe has never been in any
degree restored. We should add that there are numerous carols for the
Christmas season scattered through the writings of our old poets,
amongst whom Herrick may be mentioned as conspicuous.
But the most ample and curious published collection of Christmas carols
with which we have met is that by Mr. Sandys to which we have so often
alluded; and from the text of this collection we will give our readers
one or two specimens of the quaint beauties which occasionally mingle in
the curious texture of these old anthems. Mr. Sandys's collection is
divided into two parts, the first of which consists of ancient carols
and Christmas songs from the early part of the fifteenth to the end of
the seventeenth century. We wish that in cases where the authorship
belongs to so conspicuous a name as Herrick,--and indeed in all cases
where it is ascertained,--the names of the authors had been prefixed.
The second part comprises a selection from carols which the editor
states to be still used in the West of England. We can inform him that
many of these we have ourselves heard, only some dozen years ago,
screamed through the sharp evening air of Lancashire at the top pitch of
voices that could clearly never have been given for any such purposes,
"making night hideous," or occasionally filling the calm watches with
the far-lulling sounds of wild, sweet harmony. The practice, however,
is, under any circumstances, full of fine meanings that redeem the
rudeness of performance; and for ourselves, we like the music at its
best and worst.
Of the festive songs we have already given occasional examples in the
progress of this work, and shall just now confine ourselves to extracts
from those of a more religious character. From the old part of the
collections before us we will give a verse of a short carol which, while
it will exhibit in a very modified degree the familiar tone in which the
writers of these ancient songs dealt with the incidents of the sacred
story, is full of a tenderness arising out of that very manner of
treatment. We give it in the literal form in which we find it in this
collection, with the exception of extending an occasional cypher. It
begins with a burden:--
"A, my dere son, sayd mary, a, my dere,
Kys thi moder, Jhesu, with a lawghyng chere;"
and continues:--
"This endnes nyght I sawe a syght
all in my slepe,
Mary that may she sang lullay
and sore did wepe.
To kepe she sawght full fast a bowte
her son fro cold;
Joseph seyd, wiff, my joy, my leff,
say what ye wolde;
No thyng my spouse is In this howse
unto my pay;
My son a kyng that made all thyng
lyth in hay.
"A, my dere son."
Some of these ancient carols run over the principal incidents in the
scheme of man's fall and redemption; and we are sorry that our limits
will not permit us to give such lengthened specimens as we should
desire. We will, however, copy a few verses from one of a different
kind, in which, beneath its ancient dress, our readers will see that
there is much rude beauty. It begins:--
"I come from heuin to tell
The best nowellis that ever be fell."
But we must take it up further on:--
"My saull and lyfe, stand up and see
Quha lyes in ane cribe of tree;
Quhat babe is that so gude and faire?
It is Christ, God's Sonne and Aire.
. . . . . . .
O God, that made all creature,
How art thou becum so pure,
That on the hay and straw will lye,
Amang the asses, oxin, and kye?
"And were the world ten tymes so wide,
Cled ouer with gold and stanes of pride,
Unworthy zit it were to thee,
Under thy feet ane stule to bee.
"The sylke and sandell, thee to eis,
Are hay and sempill sweiling clais,
Quhairin thow gloiris, greitest king,
As thow in heuin were in thy ring.
. . . . . . .
"O my deir hert, zoung Jesus sweit,
Prepare thy creddill in my spreit,
And I sall rock thee in my hert,
And neuer mair from thee depart."
The Star-song in this collection is, if our memory mislead us not,
Herrick's, and taken from his "Noble Numbers." It begins:--
"Tell us, thou cleere and heavenly tongue,
Where is the babe but lately sprung?
Lies he the lillie-banks among?
"Or say if this new Birth of our's
Sleep, laid within some ark of flowers,
Spangled with deaw-light; thou canst cleere
All doubts, and manifest the where.
"Declare to us, bright star, if we shall seek
Him in the morning's blushing cheek,
Or search the beds of spices through,
To find him out?"
The second part of Sandys's collection contains an imperfect version of
a carol of which we find a full and corrected copy in Mr. Hone's
"Ancient Mysteries," formed by that author's collation of various copies
printed in different places. The beautiful verses which we quote are
from Hone's version, and are wanting in that of Sandys. The ballad
begins by elevating the Virgin Mary to a temporal rank which must rest
upon that particular authority, and is probably a new fact for our
readers:
"Joseph was an old man,
And an old man was he,
And he married Mary,
Queen of Galilee,"--
which, for a carpenter, was certainly a distinguished alliance. It goes
on to describe Joseph and his bride walking in a garden,--
"Where the cherries they grew
Upon every tree;"
and upon Joseph's refusal, in somewhat rude language, to pull some of
these cherries for Mary, on the ground of her supposed misconduct,--
"Oh! then bespoke Jesus,
All in his mother's womb,
'Go to the tree, Mary,
And it shall bow down;
"'Go to the tree, Mary,
And it shall bow to thee,
And the highest branch of all
Shall bow down to Mary's knee.'"
And then, after describing Joseph's conviction and penitence at this
testimony to Mary's truth, occur the beautiful verses to which we
alluded:
"As Joseph was a walking,
He heard an angel sing:
'This night shall be born
Our heavenly king.
"'He neither shall be born
In housen nor in hall,
Nor in the place of Paradise,
But in an ox's stall.
"'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.
"'He neither shall be christen'd
In white wine nor in red,
But with the spring water
With which we were christened.'"
The strange, wild ballad beginning,--
"I saw three ships come sailing in,
On Christmas day, on Christmas day;
I saw three ships come sailing in,
On Christmas day in the morning,"--
and the still stranger one of "The Holy Well," we would have copied at
length, as examples of these curious relics, if we could have spared the
space. Of the latter, however, we will give our readers some account, to
show the singular liberties which were taken with sacred personages and
things in these old carols. In the one in question, the boy Jesus,
having asked his mother's permission to go and play, receives it,
accompanied with the salutary injunction,--
"And let me hear of no complaint
At night when you come home.
"Sweet Jesus went down to yonder town,
As far as the Holy Well,
And there did see as fine children
As any tongue can tell."
On preferring, however, his petition to these children,--
"Little children, shall I play with you,
And you shall play with me?"
he is refused on the ground of his having been "born in an ox's stall,"
they being "lords' and ladies' sons."
"Sweet Jesus turned him around,
And he neither laugh'd nor smil'd,
But the tears came trickling from his eye
Like water from the skies."
Whereupon he returns home to report his grievance to his mother, who
answers,--
"Though you are but a maiden's child,
Born in an ox's stall,
Thou art the Christ, the King of Heaven,
And the Saviour of them all;"
and then proceeds to give him advice neither consistent with the
assertion in the last line, nor becoming her character:--
"Sweet Jesus, go down to yonder town,
As far as the Holy Well,
And take away those sinful souls,
And dip them deep in hell.
"Nay, nay, sweet Jesus said,
Nay, nay, that may not be;
For there are too many sinful souls
Crying out for the help of me."
Both these latter carols are given by Sandys as amongst those which are
still popular in the West of England; and we remember to have ourselves
heard them both many and many a time in its Northern counties.
We must give a single verse of one of the ancient French provincial
_noëls_, for the purpose of introducing our readers to a strange species
of chanted burden; and then we must stop. It is directed to be sung _sur
un chant joyeux_, and begins thus: