'Lullaby' (Part I) - a gentler journey

Last week’s trek to the Dark Ages left me exhausted, so I’ve settled into one of these comfy chairs by the fireplace to speculate on this week’s word: lullaby. Please, have a seat – I left the better one for you. Would you like a mug of coffee or tea?

You have probably noticed our dream theme – we began with gossamer, the title of a recent novel about dreams, and then delved into the dark history of nightmare. So, exploring the path of lullaby seemed like a restful and fitting addition to our study of dream-related words.

I lay my head back on the plush upholstery, close my eyes, and begin this armchair journey by sinking into my own memories of lullabies. The crackling in this present hearth mixes with the crooning of past voices; the warmth of the fire with the remembrance of a warm infant in my arms. An infant who wasn’t always keen on sleeping, but needed sleep so badly. I was rocking, singing, bouncing, lulling.

The haunting refrain “Lully, lullay” from the “Coventry Carol” echoes in my mind. Written in 1591, thus one of the oldest carols to retain both its tune and lyrics, this song is a fascinating snapshot of the English language (and an excellent window into our study):

Lully, lullay, Thou little tiny Child,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Thou little tiny Child.
By, by, lully, lullay.

In the remainder of the lyrics, a woman agonizes over how to save this child from King Herod’s slaughter of the innocents (after the Wise Men visited the Christ child). Not a comforting lullaby – because we know the ending – but she at least tries to quiet the child so the soldiers won’t hear him. Regardless of the mournful topic, this refrain confirms the two major elements of today’s word: a combination of the late Middle English interjections “lulla!” and “by!”

Lulla seems to be a verb form of the late Middle English noun lulle, which is the ancestor of our noun “lull.” Let’s see what the etymology entry says for lulle . . . ah, yes, here it is: “imitative of sounds used to calm a child” (NOAD). Hmm . . . For the by part, we could assume that our linguistic ancestors meant goodby. But I’ve already looked that one up, so I can tell you: goodby is a contraction of “God be with you,” formerly common parting words. So, what do you think by could mean?

I know we’ve traded our walking shoes for the plush carpet today, but let’s imagine a cramped medieval peasant’s hut at twilight. The father and older children have had dinner, but not much of it; a mother is holding a screaming baby that is annoying them all. The father has had enough. “Lulla!” he yells. “By!” Translation? “Shut up and go to sleep already!” or, more tactfully, “Give us some quiet, right now!” His wife takes the baby outside and starts singing to it.

In this interpretation, the word lullaby may have been formed in an effort to say “the means by which (-by) one calms an infant (lulla-)” – which is usually singing. But there is more of a story here, I have a feeling . . . and my hunch says it’s hiding behind our modern word lull.

Please forgive me for this lull in our conversation – I need some more time to pull together my thoughts.

Feel free to stay and enjoy the lullaby that the hearth is singing. I hope to be finished with Part II before you awaken.

Ety