“Gaude Virgo, Mater Christi,
Quæ per aurem concepisti.”
and of a similar conceit in Molière’s ‘Ecole des Maris.’ There is some buffoonery introduced into the fourteenth of the Coventry plays, as gross as this, but which was adapted to the rude audiences of its time; and the language of the buffoons of the piece, Primus and Secundus Detractator, forms an exception to its general gravity and seriousness. The fifth noël, amongst other things, introduces the adoration and offering of the Three Kings, in the following manner.
“Ai lai Nativitati,
Chanton, je vo suplie,
Troi Roi d’autre contai,
Moitre au estrôlôgie,
De l’anfan nôvea nai
Saivein lai prôfecie.
Ai lai Nativitai,
Chanton, je vo suplie,
De l’etoile guidai
Tô troi de compagnie,
Patire sans menai,
Gran seùte, ni meignie.
A lai Nativitai,
Chanton, je vo suplie,
L’un pris soin d’epotai,
De lai myére candie,
L’autre d’or efeignai,
E’ne bonne poignie.
Ai lai Nativitai,
Chanton, je vo suplie,
Le tier pu macherai,
Qu’ein Roi d’Etîôpie,
Prezanti po son plai
De l’ançan d’Airaibir.“
The thirteenth is a dialogue between a shepherd and his wife, and begins in the following quaint way.
“Fanne, coraige,
Le Diale á mor,
Aipre l’oraige,
J’on le beá jor.”
The glossary contains, incidentally, some curious particulars. It is stated to be the custom in the provinces, for the master of the family, with his wife and children, to sing noëls; “une très grosse buche,” called lai suche de noei, was put on the fire, and the younger children were sent into the corner of the room, to pray that the suche might produce bon-bons; and on their return, packets of sugar-plums, &c., were found near the suche, to whom the children implicitly attributed the power of producing them.
There was a collection of Noëls Bourguignons, by De la Monnoye, of which a translation into the common language of the country was published in 1735. De la Monnoye was denounced by the priests at Dijon, for his carols; but the translation, though it might have taken off the sting, probably lessened the humour also.
In 1738 was published, at Troyes, ‘La Grande Bible Renouvelles de Noëls Nouveaux,’ in four parts, containing ninety noëls, many of them of a rude and humble description. In 1750, at Avignon, ‘Nouveaux Cantiques Spirituels Provençaux,’ with the music; it contains some noëls, though not exclusively confined to them. In 1785, at Paris, ‘Noëls Nouveaux sur les Chants des Noëls anciens, notez pour en faciliter le chant,’ par M. l’Abbé Pellegrin. In 1791, at Avignon, Recueil de Noëls Provençaux,’ par le Sieur Peirol, Menuisier d’Avignon, nouvelle édition. This contains forty-two noëls, besides five pieces of a different description. They are mostly of a light and joyous nature, and the subjects are very similar to those in our carols. In 1805, there was a collection of noëls published at St. Malo, and another edition in 1819, containing twenty-one noëls; and at the commencement of the work are three pastorals, or dramatic pieces, in the style of our old mysteries; one on the Birth of our Saviour; another on the Adoration of the Three Kings; and the third on the Massacre of the Innocents, where Herod orders all children under the age of seven to be killed, which gives his own son, who is one of the sufferers, an opportunity for making a speech; to this is added the regrets of Herod for the massacre, in the form of a dialogue between himself and the Innocents. I have also a collection of “Noëls Vieux et Nouveaux,” of which the title-page and first two or three leaves are torn out. In 1807, there was a collection, at Avignon, of Noëls Provençaux, by Le Sieur Nicolas Saboly, a new edition, containing ninety. The tunes of some of the more favourite noëls may occasionally be found in collections of popular French airs; and among the chap books of the day are small collections of noëls at small prices, and collections of Spanish and German carols may be met with.
There are some curious burdens or refrains to some of the French noëls; one will be seen in the selection given, “Turelurelu, patapatan;” but these words are intended to represent the sounds of the flute and tambour. They often introduce in their old songs “Lurelure,” or something similar; indeed “Leire la, Leire lanleire,” is very ancient, as also is “Dondon,” another refrain. “Mironton,” “Biribi,” and “Turlututu,” are other terms, of which the explanation must be left to wordy antiquaries. The English refrains, however, seem equally as inexplicable as the French; unless we suppose, with some learned expositor, that the well-known “Down derry down” has reference to the oak, and is derived from the Druid, “Hob y deri danno;” but then how are we to account for “Hey troly loly lo,” and “Dumble dum deary,” &c.? In the Elizabethan age, “Hey, nonny, nonny” was somewhat a favourite, though there were some strange burdens also at this time, that would make us fancy that the celebrated Tarleton and Kemp must occasionally have improvised any clinking nonsense that entered their heads, which was afterwards printed with the songs.