SRFN Miscellany: Sabine Baring Gould: Essay on English Folk-Music, 1895: 2

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SRFN: Miscellany:
Sabine Baring Gould:
Essay on English Folk-Music (2)

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY ON ENGLISH FOLK-MUSIC

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There was, I heard, an old man in the cold clay district north of Broadbury Down, in the parish of Halwell, in North Devon, who was reputed to be a singer. It was for me a drive of nearly seventeen miles; however, I went after him, driving over a moor strewn with tumuli, found him in a field weeding turnips, and at once began on the topic of old songs. I soon learned from him the names of several that he sung, and got from him a promise to come and stay with me for a few days, so soon as Mr. Sheppard arrived. Accordingly, old Luxton — that was his name — came, and he gave us a number of delightful songs, some of exquisite delicacy.

Mr. Sheppard and I put up for a week at Holne, near Ashburton, song collecting. We got together a number of singers, and gave them a supper. Then they sang each a song in turn; most of these were rubbish, many modern, published songs, and just as one old fellow began a strain in the Dorian mode, in came the village constable to order all out, because the public-house must be closed. However, we had pretty well discovered which were the singers who had the real good stuff in them, and these we invited to warble to us on the following evenings; and from them we collected some excellent airs. I went with my coadjutor to Chagford, and there gathered together some old labourers and a lame barber, and a very pleasant evening we had. Among these men was an old soldier, but he sang nothing but published music. Now here is a list of songs taken down that evening:—

Engraving of the Oxenham Arms, South Zeal

1.	"The Yellow Golden Tree." This is "The Golden Vanity," a ballad relative to Sir Walter Raleigh. We have published it in "Songs of the West," lxiv.
2.	"In Biberly Town." A curious ballad not over-choice in words, but the tune bold and fine; S. of W., cx.
3.	"The Bonny Bunch of Roses," S. of W., xxvii.
4.	"Midsummer Carol," S. of W., lxxxix. We have given this also in "English Minstrelsie," vol. iii. A fine early melody, and a delightful song.
5.	"The Roving Journeyman," S. of W., viii.
6.	"High Germany," "The Garland," ii.
7.	"The Nobleman and the Thrasher," the words in Bell's "Songs of the Peasantry."
8.	"Three Jolly Butchers." A well-known and very curious ballad; the tune most rugged and early in character.
9.	"The Trees they are so High," S. of W., iv.
10.	"As I walked out one May Morning," S. of W., lxxiii., to new words. The old words not choice.
11.	"The Barley Straw, S. of W., xcviii.

I do not say we got all these for the first time, but some were new to us, all valuable as variants.

Next day we went to see two old labourers at a place called Culley Hole, in a coomb under the moors. One old fellow was childish, the other, his brother-in-law, was nearly blind. They had a pot over the glowing turves, in which their potatoes and a little bacon were boiling, and were pleased, as we were hungry, to give us a bite out of their dinner. From them we got— 1. "'Twas of a Farmer's Daughter;" 2. "The Ragged Beggar Man," to a wonderful old tune ("Garland," xxiv.); 3. "Don't you see my Billy Coming?" this Miss Broadwood has published, as picked up also in

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INTRODUCTORY ESSAY ON ENGLISH FOLK-MUSIC

Sussex; 4. "The Maid and the Box;" 5. "A Fair Maid sat a Weeping" (S. of W., xxxix.); 6. "The Squire of Tamworth, or, The Golden Glove," the words in Bell's "Songs of the Peasantry;" 7. "A Nutting we will Go" (S. of W., lxxxiii.).

From Culley Hole we made an attempt to get across the moor into the high road from Moreton to Tavistock, and lost our way, got into bogs, and were overtaken by a furious hail storm. We did not reach our inn in the middle of the moor till night, and wet and chilled to the marrow. Then off we started for Widecombe in the Moor. The season was late - autumn, the month October, the sun shone out, and in the lovely valley of Widecombe one seemed to be in coral land. The mountain-ash was heavy with scarlet berries, and the hedges were a mass of carbuncles from rose hips. We had heard of a farmer's wife at a place called Scobbetor, who could sing old ballads, so to her we went, and dropped in on her without premonition. She was greatly taken aback, and for some time would not open her lips. However at last she was persuaded to sing, and this is what we gleaned from her— 1. "Cold Blows the Wind to-night, Sweetheart," a fine old ballad to a very early air (S. of W., vi); 2. "The Loyal Lover" (S. of W., xcii); 3. "Tobacco is an Indian Weed" (S. of W., xcv.); "Cupid's Garden," Chappell, p. 727.

When I was in Surrey working up material for my novel, "The Broom Squire," I learned that every autumn a cheap-jack went round the country offering prizes in a competition singing match among the villagers, as already mentioned at the beginning of this essay. I have just had the following interesting letter from Miss L. E. Broadwood relative to this very district. It will show what may still be done in this direction if only enterprising persons will take the trouble to collect. But then, this must be done at once; in a very few years every chance will be gone past recall:—

"September 13, 1896.

"I have been fortunate lately in stumbling upon a rich mine of old songsters, ten old men, who can't read, in Surrey, not far from Whitley and Godalming. Cheered by a supper, they sat round, with eyes tightly closed, and sang excellent and really old songs. One striking thing was that they sang the tune to the 'Bailiff's Daughter of Islington,' which my uncle John Broadwood collected early in this century in Sussex, and which I have never found any one to know anywhere else. They sang it almost note for note as he noted it. Another strange thing is, they sang the brutal ballad of 'Young Lamkin' all through. How odd that it should survive in this way!
"The following are some of the songs they sang, and in one evening only:—

"Young (or Bold) Lamkin.	Pretty Maids, your misfortunes I'll share.
'Tis of a Brisk, a Lively Lad.	*Abroad as I was walking (most* ancient modal tune).**
Cold Blows the Wind (2 airs).	Pretty Sailor.
Sheffield Apprentice.	Tarry Sailor.
A Ship she lies in Harbour.	Trees they are so High.
Blackberry Fold.	Banks of Sweet Dundee.
The pleasant Month of May is just coming in.	Lovely Nancy.
Bold Brennan on the Moor.	My Father he had ten Acres of Land. Joy O!
Bailiff's Daughter of Islington.	Mistress Health.
Seeds of Love.	The Maid and the Box, &c., &c."

We made a journey through Cornwall song-collecting. After some rough experience in very country inns we reached Fowey. "Come," said my companion, "let us now taste the sweets of civilisation, and go to the Fowey Hotel." "Very well," said I with a sigh. "But no songs there." "No, but we shall have the electric light." The hotel was all that could be desired for comfort, but, as I knew, our stay there was doomed to be sterile. As we were about to leave I said to my companion, "I want to make a sketch of the Lugger Inn — I will walk on." So I did walk on, and began my sketch of one of the most exquisite bits of old Fowey. Whilst sketching it, the landlord, whose name was Varcoe, saw me, and ran out to invite me in to see the date carved on a beam in the house. I entered, and in the kitchen saw an old white-headed man over his pot of beer. At once, forgetting all else, I sat down beside him, and began talking of old songs. "Do y' know the song of the Keenly Lode?" he asked. "It's a miner's song."

I did not. Just then up came the bus to take us to the station. I had but time to tell the innkeeper what I wanted, and to get him to promise to look up old singers for me. Next year I went there with Mr. Bussell, and we spent several days in "The Lugger," and very snug we were. Now there were men who were notable singers known to Varcoe, but they were shy and afraid to appear before "a couple of gem'men." He had tried to get them to come,

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY ON ENGLISH FOLK-MUSIC

and they had promised, but failed to keep their promise. Again, next day he went for them, and then they flatly refused to come. What was to be done? "There is but one chance," said Mr. Varcoe. "They are working for the G. W. R., on the line up the Fowey, go to the station-master and enlist his help; he can command them."

So we went to the station-master, and, when I told him my name, "I will do everything in my power to help you," he said; and I learned, to my surprise, that he was brother-in-law to a schoolmaster I had had in the National School some years before, who had been ill, and I had been kind to him.

"Now then," said the station-master, "I will have the men into the breakfast and dinner shed, but I can't make them sing." "Leave that to me," said I.

The fellows arrived, literally shaking in their shoes. Nevertheless, in ten minutes we were capital friends, and they were warbling their old ditties like larks.

At Charlestown, near St. Austell, is a very old but hearty man, who was once a noted smuggler. He was in

prison for smuggling the year that William IV. was crowned. He is now harbour master. We went after him, got him to come and have an early dinner with us, and then he yarned away over old smuggling experiences, and sang us a number of very curious old songs.

But some men are too shy to be drawn. My friend, Mr. Frank Kidson, who collects Yorkshire folk-airs, was telling me the other day of one such on the moors in the West riding; he has in his mind a store of old ballads, but no money, no offers of a glass of ale, will get him to give them up.

I remember one old fellow who sang to us, but who — although he allowed his tune to be taken down — stubbornly refused to allow me to note the words. However, I paid him another visit, overcame his prejudice, and got the whole song.

Tunes and words must be taken down when the opportunity offers, these opportunities must be seized without the least delay. I remember, in 1867, being in the train between Leeds and Thirsk, and hearing a workman sing "The Spanish Lady." I took down some ballads from mill-girls at Horbury in 1864. The other day, in 1896, I was back in Horbury, and I went to see old friends I had not seen for thirty years and more. One of these my first singers came running to see me when "'t mill loosed" at noon. "Eh, lass!" said I, "dost' remember singing to me the 'Jovial Heckler's Boy'? She laughed, and her eyes danced as she said, "Aye — but if thou'lt stay a bit I sing thee a score more."

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