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IT IS ALWAYS dangerous to take the views of single witnesses as representative of a majority, yet that is how the understanding that the medieval Church was opposed to dancing in general and carolling in particular has been perpetuated. So let us review the evidence for when and where carolling was considered appropriate in medieval culture and examine the English Franciscans’ adoption of the carole genres of dance-song and lullaby in their song writing.
Vernacular song as an expression of piety and praise dates back to the very beginning of Franciscan practice in the Canticle of the Sun (Cantico delle creature) a hymn said to have been composed by St. Francis himself, ca. 1225. The lauda (pl. laude) a kind of strophic and devotional song in the vernacular was at the centre of Italian Franciscan devotion in non-liturgical contexts. In England, the Franciscans were particularly influential in the development of the carole, both religious and secular, and their approach to carolling is an important element in establishing the practice’s place in society.
Early Franciscan writers reflected a negative attitude to somatic manifestations of music, according with other evidence from ecclesiastical sources that has fostered prejudicial, often anti-feminist, readings by both medieval and modern commentators. However, the work of the Franciscans in the fifteenth century, in the heart of the community, led them to connect with the culture of the people, and dance, and dance-song, was for both men and women a fundamental part of entertainment culture. If ecclesiastical disapproval had been universal, it is difficult to understand how the carole became so embedded in fifteenth-century insular Franciscan culture that they adopted the dance-song and lullaby idioms, thus laying the foundation in England for the seasonal hymns that have been popular since the sixteenth century. In short, carolling was not universally condemned throughout the late Middle Ages and the inevitable association, by clerics, of carolling with a sinful life and the deflowering of virgins has been interpreted selectively by modern writers. Many of the condemnations were specific to particular times and places: the church or churchyard during services and on other occasions, such as during Sunday afternoon sermons, when the sacred and the secular competed directly for the people’s attention.
CAROLLING WAS FUNDAMENTALLY an orally transmitted cultural activity. Dance-songs, or caroles, existed within the context of the communal song culture of medieval society at all levels. Not only did caroles exist before any extant examples were written down, but many also circulated long after in a parallel oral culture, even within a predominantly literacy-dependant society. Just as music history is the history of the written record not of music itself, a carole recorded in a scene of carolling in a romance narrative is not the thing itself, just as a set of variations on Cotton Patch Rag published in a Bluegrass Fiddle Styles book is not Bluegrass Fiddling. Caroles have been brought to the attention of scholars by their presence in medieval literature and sermons, and by the later recording of texts as poems, but the originals belong to a song culture that accompanied many activities of daily living and has left virtually no trace. As early as the fourth century ce, St. John Chrysostom offers a summary of this widely acknowledged tradition:
…travellers also sing as they drive their yoked animals at midday, thus lightening the hardships of the journey by their chants. And not only travellers, but peasants are accustomed to sing as they tread the grapes in the winepress, gather the vintage, tend the vine, and perform their other tasks. Sailors do likewise, pulling at the oars. Women, too, weaving and parting the tangled threads with the shuttle, often sing a particular melody, sometimes individually and to themselves, sometimes all together in concert.
Only fragments remain in a written record dating from the fourteenth century, distorted by the influence of the Church on book production and by the vagaries of the survival of any text from that period. The picture of the oral vernacular culture, portrayed by the written record, is as tantalizingly fleeting as the sparkle of a speck of gold in a prospector’s pan. The study of caroles and carolling needs to shake off the written tradition to bring this predominantly oral, secular song culture that existed throughout the Middle-Ages into a new focus. In this opening chapter, however, we take a swift overview of source texts relating to carolling, that evidence the existence of that oral culture and provide a context for understanding the relationship between oral and written cultures in a developing literate society.
IN THIS BOOK we have seen that medieval carolling was an activity enjoyed by people from all levels of society, from the highly educated clerics and most sophisticated courtiers down to the illiterate peasant. The carole form was flexible and adaptable, and singing or dancing ability were no criteria for, or against, communal participation, although the inventiveness of the lead singer and their ability to project in a clear, tuneful voice was considered necessary. Participation could be spontaneous, meaning that no rehearsal was required, and strangers could join in even though they were not part of a particular community. Some more complex song repertoire was developed among clerical communities and a shared repertoire probably existed in certain circumstances.
Let us turn now for the first time in research to explore the significance of circle dance formation from the perspective of Dance Movement Psychotherapy, using expertise in the praxis of leading improvised sessions as a background for the reconstruction of a carolling experience and the pastiche case study that will conclude this book. The urge to dance can be observed in infants as soon as they are able to stand, aided by support from an adult. It is an expression of self, of energy and emerging autonomy and a means of communication with the supporting adult. It usually takes the form of mirroring, espe-cially if the pair is holding hands and facing each other. It may comprise a bouncing action of the hands or a verbal expression, perhaps in the form of a nursery rhyme, thus creating dance-song. When this dyadic relationship is expanded to include firstly family and then a wider community the mirroring of movement and song also expands.
Building on this beginning, we observe that many ritual dances take a circular formation, the ring of dancers defining a sacred space. There may be a physical manifestation of the centre or focus of the inward facing circle, such as a fire or a person, or it may be that the focus of energy of the rotating circle defines the centre. Centroversion, this envisioning of the centre of the social group, through dance is an expression or an “act-ing out” of the cohesion of the group.
CAROLES AND CAROLLING are so frequently referred to in literary texts and other records from the eleventh century to the sixteenth century that it is clear carolling was understood to be a universally shared cultural experience in Western Europe. It is, however, the very universality of that cultural experience that presents a problem to modern researchers. When a familiarity can be assumed, among contemporary readers, it is not necessary for a writer to describe the activity in detail. The “cultural assumption,” within any particular society, leaves a void in the record for the reader who lacks that shared knowledge. Medieval carolling is a case in point: it was apparently ubiquitous in practice, but it is rarely documented with clarity. There are no extant medieval manuscripts containing tunes or song texts that designate particular ones as caroles. Although carolling is mentioned, in passing, in many sources, it is very seldom described in detail regarding what steps were used or how many people took part, or how long it took. With the benefit of my background as a professional musician, historical dance specialist and qualified Dance Movement Psychotherapist, I take an inter-disciplinary approach to the medieval activity of carolling and explore what carolling may have meant to the people of late medieval Britain. By drawing together existing scholarship from the disciplines of Music, English, French or Anglo-Norman, Dance, Social History, and Cultural History, together with undertaking original research focussing on the activity of carolling, rather than just the written object of the carole text, I re-instate the symbiotic relationship of song, text, and dance within the communal culture of medieval Britain and shed new light on our understanding of the activity of carolling.
The seminal work on the extant texts of medieval English carols is by Richard Leighton Greene and, although it was published in 1935, it has only been added to, not superseded in subsequent scholarship. Greene’s collection, of necessity, covers the later medieval period from ca. 1400 to ca. 1550 as it relies on extant written or printed manuscript sources. My study begins with the earliest evidence of the activity of carolling in Britain, before the Norman Conquest, and long before any actual “carols” were recorded.
I HAVE DANCED, on and off, since I was two years old and had some aspirations, until bassoon playing took over aged thirteen. When I needed some time out of the music profession, in 1995, I trained as a Dance Movement Psychotherapist and worked in that field for the next ten years. A group therapy session usually begins with the formation of an inward facing circle in which the members can acknowledge each other, and the leader (the therapist) can encourage some level of synchrony, to express empathy and cohesion. Later the circle may break up as the members are able to express themselves individually, the group being brought back to the circle at the close.
When I became a medievalist, I was struck by the resonances between this experience and the ancient activity of carolling. This book is a result of my fascination with this connection. I wish to thank Prof. Pamela King, who encouraged me to start this research and supervised my doctorate at the beginning, Prof. Emma Hornby who took over and saw me through, and Prof. Leah Tether who injected much needed enthusiasm towards the end. I also thank Prof. Christopher Page who generously gave me his research reference notes in a private email and assured me that he was happy for me to make use of them. I am grateful to Prof. King for working alongside me in reworking and rewriting the doctorate into a published monograph.
SCENES OF CAROLLING and references to the activity in courtly culture can be found in much of the literature of the late Middle Ages. The dependence of carolling upon the use of burdens or refrains, as already defined in the Introduction above, and the practice of including refrain material in literary works of the roman à chansons has also resulted in a large corpus of research in the field of refrain studies. Some of these studies have included the carole. However, because the focus of these scholars has also been predominantly on the romance literary sources, there has been an inevitable association of carolling with the idealized fictional world of courtly love and chivalry. Here we re-examine the record of courtly carolling in the context of a universal, though un-notated, medieval dance culture, for information about two main aspects of the practice. Firstly, when and why did carolling take place and secondly, how was it executed? We will review literary examples alongside accounts of carolling in chronicles and other pseudo-historical records to demonstrate that references to courtly carolling, as an activity, were not confined to romance narrative. As is well known, Francophile tastes continued to influence English court culture for the greater part of the four centuries after the Conquest in 1066, despite periods of enmity between the two countries. Hence there is a “striking absence” of English courtly love lyrics until the fifteenth century, and this lacuna in the written record applies equally to carole texts. The shared nature of the culture, therefore, leads us to French literary sources for information on insular courtly practices, including carolling.
The narratives of romans à chansons offer the most detailed descriptions of dance-song scenes. Although the songs are not always defined as caroles it is clear from the context that they represent the activity of carolling if, for example, the preceding narrative has introduced the idea with a phrase such as Ainz i sont si granz karoles. Jean Renart claimed that he was the first writer to include songs within a narrative, in Le Roman de la Rose ou Guillaume de Dole (ca. 1228), although other writers in the early thirteenth century, including Gautier de Coincy, were also exploring the genre that became known as roman à chanson.
WE HAVE SEEN in the foregoing chapters that medieval carolling was the activity of singing and dancing at the same time but that the two components appear to have taken separate lines of development in England after ca. 1500, according to the written record. It is possible that the combination of singing and dancing in dance-songs remained in oral culture far later, but the terms “carol” and “carolling” became attached to the seasonal song element alone. People continued to accompany their activities with songs, especially in the contexts of communal agricultural work, rowing, sailing and presumably dancing, in the absence of available musical instruments. However, the written record is fragmentary for the period from the sixteenth century until the interest in what came to be called “folk” culture blossomed in the nineteenth century. Recently, Robert Mullally has argued that the carole, as a medieval French dance, “went out of fashion about 1400.” Moreover, he continues, “The fact remains, however, that no obvious relationship is discernible between the carole as a dance and the carol as a burden-and-stanza form,” and that this English “lyric form,” though the name “carol” was applied to it, was unrelated to dancing. We have also seen, however, that there existed a more fluid and complex relationship between the French or Anglo-Norman use of the word carole, and the central position of the activity in insular British culture than his view allows. The emergence of the polyphonic carol, for example, as exemplified by The Agincourt Carol in 1415, represents just one, well documented, direction that the song element of carolling took during the fifteenth century. This is described by Lefferts as follows:
The polyphonic English devotional carol in English and Latin is an important indigenous product […] that did not circulate abroad. Not the music of the noble courts but not the music of the people either, the carol appears to have been a repertory primarily for recreational use at Christmas and Eastertime in the world of the scholars, fellows and singing men of schools, colleges and major ecclesiastical choral establishments.
Certainly, singing and dancing followed separate paths of development in Britain, first in courtly culture and later in what might be referred to anachronistically as “folk” culture.
CAROLLING, AS WE are beginning to see, was primarily an orally transmitted culture and written records of carole texts represent a fragment of the repertoire in circulation during the late Middle Ages. The question to be asked, therefore, is not, “Why were so few caroles written down?” but “Why were particular caroles written down at all?” Let us now turn to some manuscripts that contain secular caroles compiled alongside religious caroles or other texts. Many of these caroles have been published in modern anthologies; so let us discover what can be learnt from the mise-en-page of these recorded caroles about their possible use, within the context of the manuscripts. Much can be gained from the small scraps of oblique evidence revealed by the inclusion of these texts and their compilation alongside content of differing registers, information not available when the same texts are anthologized by topic or chronologically. The four manuscripts studied here, examples of both individual and collaborative scribal practice, nuance this evidence in different ways. Mise-en-page as well as content of the texts reveal that even caroles written within the same manuscript or anthology may have been the result of a variety of compilational impulses: for example, non-religious material tends to be written, or at least begun, on the verso sides. We will also explore the correlation between conventional poetic scribal layouts and the culture in which the manuscripts were used or circulated.
No caroles are designated as such in the extant manuscript record. Texts of songs in carole form (a burden or refrain followed by stanzas) can be found within collections of songs or poems in other forms and also among prose material. In the manuscripts studied here, the songs are not separated by genre, so it is only in the self-referential context found in the “caroll” “Hay, ay, hay, ay, make we mery as we may,” and also in the religious lyrics of early fifteenth-century writer, John Audelay, that we can be sure of the appellation. Audelay’s twenty-five religious caroles are contained in Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Douce 302, the final one containing the words: “I pray youe, seris, pur charyté, Redis this caral reverently.”
IF CAROLE TEXTS represent only a part of what was primarily an oral tradition, equally there are caroles which replicate that tradition but were always and only ever part of a clerical written tradition. Conventional “categories” of secular caroles are deployed by anthologists and commentators which we can apply to consider what themes and styles might have been widespread in the oral or improvised repertoire. We will take Kathleen Palti’s work on London, British Library, MS Sloane 2593 and its concordances, as a departure point in exploring the relationship between the secular clerical caroles in this and other manuscripts and that elusive and largely unwritten, culture.
It is important to recognize from the outset that themes and topics should not be taken too literally. For example, a song about Maytime might be sung all year round if it expresses universally appropriate sentiments, but a carole addressing a specific feast, such as the well-known Boar’s Head Carol, would be appropriate only for the mid-winter season. Possibly caroles attached to specific occasions were more likely to be written down, lest they were forgotten over the intervening year. On the other hand, Richard Kele’s Christmas Carolles Newely Inprynted includes songs that are not particularly Christmasy: possibly Christmas was just a particularly fruitful season for the invention of entertaining songs of all sorts, especially among clerical fraternities, for singing in halls and households. The question then arises whether the proliferation of manuscript evidence for this type of song, well suited for sedentary indoor delivery, arose from the clerical timetable, so need not reflect the balance of overall participation in carolling and dance-songs across the year. The performance of a complex narrative text depends on a good acoustic for its reception and would be less successful if the participants were dancing. Thus, the spring and summer repertoire, involving dancing outdoors, possibly remained solely in the oral repertoire. In short, winter caroles and those with complex narratives, are more likely to turn up in the manuscript record than caroles that could be sung all year round.
We have seen that secular caroles are found in predominantly religious manuscript collections and compilations.
Our conception of the culture and values of the ancient Greco-Roman world is largely based on texts and material evidence left behind by a small and atypical group of city-dwellers. The people of the deep Mediterranean countryside seldom appear in the historical record from antiquity, and almost never as historical actors. This book is the first extended historical ethnography of an ancient village society, based on an extraordinarily rich body of funerary and propitiatory inscriptions from a remote upland region of Roman Asia Minor. Rural kinship structures and household forms are analysed in detail, as are the region's demography, religious life, gender relations, class structure, normative standards and values. Roman north-east Lydia is perhaps the only non-urban society in the Greco-Roman world whose culture can be described at so fine-grained a level of detail: a world of tight-knit families, egalitarian values, hard agricultural labour, village solidarity, honour, piety and love.
Contemporary debates on policing trace the rise of “law and order” populism and police militarization to colonial histories and imperial boomerang effects. In a time marked by the renewed imperative “to decolonize,” however, few studies examine what decolonizing policing did or could look like in practice. This article draws on oral history narratives of Jamaican police officers to recover their ideas about transforming the colonial Jamaica Constabulary Force in the 1970s. Born out of black power mobilizations and under a democratic socialist government (1972–1980), police decolonization was viewed as part of broader transformative effort to rid the country of colonial inheritances in economics, culture, and politics. Jamaican policemen, radicalized since the early twentieth century, then began revising their social mandate and ask who the police should serve and protect. Ultimately, due to internal contradictions and external pressures, the experiment failed, giving rise to police populism and increased violence against black men and women in the ghettos. The episode reveals how populism emerges out of a failure of emancipatory campaigns and how radical critique can turn into ideological justification. It also highlights the need to distinguish between diverse, contradictory, and overlapping demands to decolonize societies and institutions today.
Recent transitional justice scholarship has explored the role of emotions during periods of political transition. Scholars have taken negative emotions as both legitimate responses to past crimes and as supports to the pursuit of justice in the present. This paper argues that feelings circulate across a wide array of individuals, things, and processes that often sit apart from the formal, judicial spaces of transitional justice. To make this argument, I consider the Tunisian campaign Manich Msamah (I Do Not Forgive) and its articulation of an affect of unforgiveness in resistance to the proposed Economic and Financial Reconciliation Law. Formed in 2015, the campaign came about in response to the law and efforts, under the pretext of “reconciliation,” to return to public life figures from the repressive regime of Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali. Drawing on affect theory, I argue that unforgiveness was stuck to particular individuals (figures from the old regime and circulated between a community of unforgiving activists), things (public spaces, posters, T-shirts and the ephemera of protest) and processes (accountability and substantive forms of justice). I argue that an affect of unforgiveness thus aided activists not only in their resistance to state-led reconciliation but also helped imagine alternative paths to justice in Tunisia.
The rumors of Brazil’s mineral riches reaching London and Vienna in the first half of the nineteenth century, started by enslaved Africans mining clandestinely in unexplored regions and later through geological surveys by mining engineers from the Habsburg Empire, prompted aspirations to wealth which circulated fluidly in the transatlantic context. This article examines the distinct but convergent agencies of garimpeiros, enslaved miners and prospectors, and of Habsburgian mining engineers in the territorialization process of Minas Gerais during the nineteenth-century expansion of global capitalism. It analyses the degree of connectivity and cooperation across British and Habsburgian imperial spaces in Brazilian mining ventures, focusing on the case of the mining engineer Virgil von Helmreichen, who arrived in Minas Gerais in 1836, under contract to the British-financed Imperial Brazilian Mining Association. The Habsburgian expert elite of which Helmreichen was a part played a crucial role in the expansion of the commodity frontier in this region, providing proficient knowledge in mining and geology. This expert community collaborated with the logistics networks of British free-trade imperialism and the Brazilian slave system inherited from the colonial period. The territorialization of Minas Gerais shows the global dynamics at play between British interests in the discovery of new mines, the need to produce expert knowledge at the local level, and the Brazilian government’s desire to control the hinterland region and profit from its mineral wealth.
Before the 1915 Genocide of Ottoman Armenians, the region of Van, in contemporary southeastern Turkey, held hundreds of active Armenian churches and monasteries. After the destruction of the Armenian community, these ruined structures took on new afterlives as they became part of the evolving environments and communities around them. These ruined spaces play a role in the everyday lives of the people who live among them and shape their historical understandings and relationships with the local history and geography. I interrogate the afterlives of one abandoned monastery and examine how local Kurds imagine, narrate, and enact the politics of the past and the present through that space of material ruin. I demonstrate how the history of the Armenian Genocide and ongoing state violence against the Kurdish community are intricately linked, highlight the continuation of violence over the past century, and deconstruct notions of ahistorical victims and perpetrators. This article builds on a critical approach to ruins as it traces how histories of destruction and spaces of material ruin are revisited and reinterpreted by those whose lives continue to be shaped by processes of ruination. It demonstrates how ruins created through violent histories become spaces for articulating alternative senses of history and crafting possible futures.
This article constitutes a critique of abstraction as an analytic tool. The argument advances the idea that formalizing practices are indexical; that is, the way abstractions are realized necessarily incorporates features of the context in which they are produced. The expression formalizing practices refers to a series of actions or operations that make quantification, rationalization, and standardization possible. Entailed in all these procedures is an attempt to select and isolate features that exemplify a specific phenomenon or social process, or in the case of standardization, that stipulate its contours and dimensions. These features are presumed to be immanent from the start, but in fact, formal representations are carefully crafted, finely tuned instruments. In order to clarify these practices, I delineate three phases of their construction: the conceptual phrase, the choice of analytic strategy, and the specification of its formal representation. In other words, this approach suggests the value of examining formalizing projects as crucibles where cultural assumptions and practical reasoning are condensed into formulae. These ideas are explored in relation to the use of time and motion studies employed in early socialist Hungary to determine the new socialist wage system. While a decidedly local story, the implications of the analysis are much broader. The possibility of adopting this approach to the study of other formalizing practices, such as algorithmic systems and digital databases, is suggested. The analysis also raises questions about the commensurability of long-held concepts in social theory.
One of the most important systems of sheep transhumance since the Middle Ages in Spain occurred between the mountains of northern Leon and the Extremadura Meadow lands – a 500-kilometre journey on foot. We analyse here an interesting collection of thirty letters, written at the turn of the nineteenth to the twentieth century, and sent by the shepherds responsible for the flock from the wintering land to the owner of the animals. The only connection with the owner for seven long months but also with their villages and families, were these letters.
Since the beginning of the twentieth century, a frequent claim among speakers of local Chinese languages (called fangyan in Chinese) is that their native languages preserve the language of antiquity better than the Beijing-based national language, Mandarin. This paper explores the origin of these claims and probes their significance in the making of the Han ethnoracial collective identity. I argue that claims of linguistic proximity to the imagined ancient origins of Chinese civilization represent a form of “hegemonic Han-ness”—an idealized form of the Han collective identity that was both internally hegemonic, in that it was meant to supersede other expressions of Han-ness, and externally hegemonic, in that it was meant to uphold the superiority of the Han people over other ethnoracial groups. From Zhang Taiyan, whose work provided a model for drawing linguistic connections between contemporary local languages and the language spoken at the dawn of Chinese civilization, to local gazetteer authors, who used linguistic data to prove their mother tongues directly had preserved the language of antiquity without being adulterated by the languages of non-Han peoples, this paper explores how various groups drew upon the cultural power of an idealized Han-centered past to challenge the authority afforded to the national language by the state.