Some English musicians who at the time of James I. visited the continent, Italianised their names, a rather unpatriotic act to which they probably would not have thought of resorting, had they not become convinced of the superiority of the continental music. John Cooper called himself Giovanni Coperario; and Peter Phillips, who lived for a time in the Netherlands, altered his name into Pietro Philippi.
As regards the national music of England at the time of the strolling instrumentalists, the inquirer may obtain reliable information by examining an old collection of popular tunes entitled 'The Dancing Master; or Directions for dancing Country Dances, with the Tunes to each Dance, for the Treble Violin.' The first edition was published by John Playford, about the middle of the sixteenth century. The work, which consisted of only one volume, became popular, and went through many editions with enlargements, until, at about the year 1700, it extended to three volumes containing nearly one thousand tunes. It may be surmised that this collection comprises nearly all the airs of the secular songs which were popular in England at the time of the Instrumentalists. It must be remembered that most of the airs of songs were also used as dance-tunes, and that comparatively but few of the dance-tunes in the earlier editions of the collection are instrumental pieces not derived from vocal music. Whether all these melodies are of English origin is another question. Some are known to be Welsh, others Irish, others Scotch; and some appear to have been derived from the continent. Some of the dances are of foreign origin, and most probably they became first known with the tunes which belonged to them when they were introduced into England. Afterwards, new tunes were composed to them, which more or less resembled the old ones. Irrespective of all those tunes in the 'Dancing Master,' which are apparently not English, there still remains a considerable number of specimens which may be accepted as genuine English tunes. They should be examined just as they are published, without modern harmony or any other arrangement which obscures their original character. Some of them are certainly odd. Take for instance the 'Cushion Dance,' with its melancholy tune, in which the dancers converse in song with the musicians.
Joan Sanderson, or the Cushion Dance.
An old Round Dance.
[[Listen]]
"Note.—The first strain twice; the second once; and the last as oft as is required."
"This dance is begun by a single Person (either Man or Woman) who taking a Cushion in their Hand, dances about the Room; and at the end of the Tune they stop and sing, This Dance it will no further go. The Musicians answer, I pray you good Sir, why say you so? Man, Because Jean Sanderson will not come too. Musician, She must come too, and she shall come too, and she must come whether she will or no. Then he lays down the Cushion before a Woman, on which she kneels, and he kisses her, singing, Welcome Jean Sanderson, welcome, welcome. Then she rises, takes up the Cushion, and both dance, singing, Prinkum-prankum is a fine Dance, and shall we go dance it once again, once again, and once again, and shall we go dance it once again? Then making a stop, the Woman sings as before, The Dance, etc. Musician, I pray you Madam, etc. Woman, Because John Sanderson, etc. Musician, He must, etc. And so she lays down the Cushion before a Man, who kneeling upon it salutes her, she singing, Welcome John Sanderson, etc. Then he taking up the Cushion, they take hands and dance round, singing, as before; and thus they do till the whole Company are taken into the Ring. And if there is Company enough, make a little Ring in the middle, and within that Ring set a Chair and lay the Cushion in it, and the first Man set in it. Then the Cushion is laid before the first Man, the Woman singing This Dance, etc. (as before) only instead of—come too, they sing—go fro; and instead of Welcome John Sanderson, etc., they sing Farewell John Sanderson, Farewell, Farewell; and so they go out one by one as they came in. Note: The Woman is kiss'd by all the Men in the Ring at her coming in and going out, and likewise the Man by all the Women."
The popular tunes of almost every European nation possess certain features of their own which the student of national music can ascertain and define. To pronounce upon the original home of any one national tune is of course often as hazardous as to pronounce upon a man's native country from his physiognomy. There are Germans who look much like Englishmen, but a number of Germans seen gathered together would not easily be mistaken for Englishmen. The same may be observed in every nation. We may occasionally meet with an Englishman who has the appearance of a Frenchman, a Chinese, or a Gipsy; but an assembly of Englishmen reveals a certain family-likeness appertaining to the English race. Thus also a collection of the popular tunes of a nation generally exhibits certain predominant peculiarities which enable us to determine whence the tunes came. Those in the 'Dancing Master,' regarded collectively, do not exhibit any family-likeness which it would be possible to indicate by words or by musical notation. They appear to have sprung from as many sources as the words of the English language. The language has, however, a strongly marked individual character from the various adopted words having become Anglicized; while the musical compositions of Englishmen bear no stamp by which they could be recognized as English.
The English instrumentalists played, of course, chiefly the popular tunes of their time. It is unnecessary to explain in detail how the music was introduced into the dramatic performances. The works of Shakespeare, with which the reader is presumably familiar, show this sufficiently. They likewise contain many instances of the admission of popular songs or ballads,—such as Desdemona's "Sing willow, willow, willow;" Ophelia's "How should I your true love know?" or the Clown's "O mistress mine where are you roaming?" in Twelfth-night. Also vocal music composed for two or more voices was occasionally introduced,—even the jocular catch, which was especially relished in England, and which Shakespeare ridicules (Twelfth-night, Act II., Scene 3):—
'Sir Toby Belch.—Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall we do that?'