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]
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 81⁄2 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.