On "The Huron Carol" by Michele Hathaway

Illustrated by Frances Tyrrell, Dutton, 1990.

It's the holidays and the last thing on your mind is historical fiction--right? That was not a question. But wait! Bookmark this page, because the The Huron Carol is a trail head into history any time of year. 

‘Twas in the moon of wintertime

When all the birds had fled,
That mighty Gitchi Manitou*
Sent angel choirs instead.

Before their light the stars grew dim,
And wand’ring hunters heard the hymn:
“Jesus, your king, is born.
Jesus is born. In excelsis gloria!”

"The Huron Carol" was written in Huron by the Jesuit missionary Jean de Brébeuf (1643) who lived with the people for 22 years. He was tortured and killed when the Iroquois raided the Huron, nearly annihilating them. Many assimilated with other tribes. A small group, known as the Wyandott eventually migrated to Oklahoma, where they live today, and a larger group, the Wendat, followed the French priests and now live in Québec.

Illus. Ian Wallace, Groundwood Books, 2013

Ehstehn yayau deh tsaun we yisus ahattonnia

O na wateh wado:kwi nonnwa 'ndasqua entai
ehnau sherskwa trivota nonnwa 'ndi yaun rashata
Iesus Ahattonnia, Ahattonnia, Iesus Ahattonnia

Ayoki onki hm-ashe eran yayeh raunnaun
yauntaun kanntatya hm-deh 'ndyaun sehnsatoa ronnyaun
Waria hnawakweh tond Yosehf sataunn haronnyaun
Iesus Ahattonnia, Ahattonnia, Iesus Ahattonnia

What is most astonishing about "The Huron Carol" was Brébeuf's cultural awareness at this period in history when sensitivity and respect for other people groups was not part of the psychological landscape. His retelling of the Christmas story in a form that was relevant for the people is worthy of note. It must have impressed the Wendat, too, because they sang the carol for a hundred years in their own language before it was translated into French. In 1926, Jesse Edgar Middleton composed the English Lyrics, which is how it is best known today.

There is only one surviving verse in Huron and two in 18th century French. The English verses are more of a re-visioning than a translation. Here are the words of the original:

"Jesus, He is Born"

Have courage, you who are human beings: Jesus, he is born

The okie spirit who enslaved us has fled

Don't listen to him for he corrupts the spirits of our thoughts

Jesus, he is born

The okie spirits who live in the sky are coming with a message

They're coming to say, "Rejoice!

Mary has given birth. Rejoice!"

Jesus, he is born

Brébeuf set the Carol to a 16th Century French song "Une Jeune Pucelle." It entered the public domain in 2011. There are many versions on You Tube that could be used in the classroom. Tom Jackson has a version that I like in particular because in addition to being a musician and actor, he is an outstanding philanthropist. One of his fundraising campaigns was the Huron Carol Tour.

Some more excellent links and comments are in Emily Gleichenhaus's blog post. Here is another lovely version of the carol sung by the Elora Festival Singers, Canada. Happy Holidays!

 * "Gitchi Manitou" is an Algonquin term that Middleton used for Great Spirit, but it is not from the Wendat language. Although today this is poor scholarship and culturally insensitive, it was not considered so in 1926. Another possible topic for discussion with students.

 

Michele Hathaway is a writer and freelance editor. She has an M. A. in Social Anthropology and has worked in libraries in California, New Mexico, and Pennsylvania. She writes stories set in culturally diverse, historical and contemporary periods.

Subscribe to get posts automatically and never miss a post. You can use the Subscribe buttons to the right, or addhttp://madaboutmghistory.blogspot.com/ to Feedly or another reader.

Merry Medieval Christmas

courtesy of wikicommons

Instead of writing a post on middle grade historical novels, I thought I'd give you readers a Christmas story. This excerpt is from On Fledgling Wings, my novel set in England during the time of Richard the Lionheart. I hope it will bring some holiday spirit to you.

  “They say that at midnight on Christmas Eve animals receive the gift of speech. I plan to lie awake to hear them,” Nathan said, wriggling with excitement.

“If you do not eat your dinner, it will be your stomach talking,” Agnes the nursemaid answered. Nathan was far too old for a nursemaid, but she had been a part of his life for so long that letting her boss him around was comforting, especially on Christmas Eve, when traditions were so important. It had been half a year since he had seen her or any of the members of his childhood home.

The church bell tolled the faithful to Vespers. Nathan hastily crammed one last piece of bread into his mouth and followed the crowd toward the church.

Torches cast skittering shadows across the walls of the darkening courtyard. Nathan stepped aside for a gang of children dragging a sheep, a donkey, and a half-grown calf toward the church. Others in the crowd shouted encouragement and slapped the animals’ rumps. The beasts balked against their halters, bleating as if they were being led to slaughter. Nathan felt sorry for them. They could not know that they were only going to keep the Christ Child warm.

The crowd surged through the double doors. Nathan caught sight of his father scanning the crowded nave on tiptoe. He grabbed Agnes’ hand and pushed through the people. He was almost next to his father before Amren saw him. Delight flickered in the knight’s eyes and a smile flashed across his face, then his face went rigid.

“I thought the snow might hamper your return.” Amren turned a critical eye on his son and Nathan felt his own belly grow cold. How foolish he had been to hope for a warmer homecoming. He bent in the low, formal bow he knew was expected of him. “You have grown.” Though his eyes were now directed toward the altar, Amren Marshal clapped his hand on his son’s shoulder. Nathan felt as if his heart would fly from his chest. He wished to ask about his father’s new bride, but dared not, lest his father remember where his hand was and withdraw it.

The crowd cursed and shoved as if unaware they were in a church. Sir Terence’s arms jerked. He shuffled from leg to leg like a restless child. Isabel and Maude gossiped. Babies cried. At the altar, sheep bleated.

But the other Glastonbury, the spiritual one, was also there. Nathan turned his eyes upward. Painted frescoes of the saints looked down from the clerestory with sad, serene eyes. If his mother were dead, she would be numbered among the saints. Was his mother watching him from heaven? Or was she alive, gliding silently over the pure, moonlit snow on the lonely moors?

The torchlight had caused shadows to leap in the courtyard. It made the paintings seem to sway and bend in a mystical, slow dance. Did his mother dance among the saints? Did the earthly tumult bother her?

The Abbot entered and the crowd fell silent. The monks chanted, the sound gathering in intensity.

O magnum mysterium,

et admirabile sacramentum,

ut animalia viderent Dominum natum jacentem in praesepio.

‘Oh, how great the mystery, how wonderful the covenant, that simple beasts should behold the Christ-Child, as a babe newborn and lying in a manger stall.’ The beasts and children in front of the altar were quiet now, but their eyes remained white-ringed and uneasy. Nathan’s throat tightened with gratitude that Brother Dominic had forced him to learn Latin. He looked at the sea of faces turned towards the altar, their eyes and lips round with wonder. Birgitta blotted the corners of her eyes with her veil.

The Abbot began the kiss of peace. It spread through the congregation as people turned and kissed each other lightly on the cheek. Agnes’ eyes were moist as she passed it to her young Master. “Peace be with you,” Nathan murmured to a boy with a thatch of straw colored hair. The boy looked vaguely familiar and Nathan momentarily wondered if he had been a stable boy at Staywell. But before Nathan could place him, the boy jerked aside. He glared at Nathan, then slipped through the crowd and was gone.

By the time the service ended, Nathan had forgotten the boy. Worn from the day’s journey and from his anxiety, sleep overtook him. If the animals did talk at midnight, Nathan was not awake to hear. 

Jennifer Bohnhoff is a 7th grade Social Studies teacher and the author of three middle grade historical novels, the ebook versions of which will be Countdown Deals, offered at a discount on Amazon from December 30 to January 6. You can read more about her writing or sign up for her email announcements (including upcoming titles and special discounts) at her website.

Subscribe to get posts automatically and never miss a post. You can use the Subscribe buttons to the right, or add http://madaboutmghistory.blogspot.com/ to Feedly or another reader.

Oldies But Goodies-The Early United States, 1783-1814

The early years of the United States from around 1784-1814 were spent carving a new nation.

Prominent leaders like Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and George Washington gambled that this new republic could be independent—and it was. The leaders helped these thirteen states unify into a new republic, despite the states' constant bickering. Then they formed a new government where the leaders were elected by the people—a radical idea.

Later the leaders wrote The Articles of Confederation, which was the first constitution for the United States, but it was too weak to control powerful state governments. Thus, a new constitution
was written and eleven of the thirteen states ratified it in 1787 and 1788.

This new country was able to expand its boundaries after signing a peace treaty in 1783. Some people lived in relatively large cities then, but not as large as cities in Europe, as is shown in the first U.S. census of 1790.

According to Alan Taylor a Professor of History at the University of California, Davis, in his essay published in the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History, more than 90 percent of the people lived in the countryside on scattered farms and plantations.

Students I taught researched what life was like for these citizens of the new United States of America. Some of the things they researched were how people earned a living; what they ate and wore for clothing; how they celebrated holidays; and what school was like. Some of the best books for this kind of research were written by Bobby Kalman. Her books have detailed illustrations showing what life was like; and the books use the vocabulary of those times, which is often unfamiliar to today's students. I believe these books would still be applicable for today's students whose learning is being shaped by Common Core and State Standards.

One standard in the History/Social Studies strand for Grades 6-12 asks that students, "Determine the meaning of words and phrases as they are used in a text, including vocabulary specific to domains related to history/social studies." 

We know that a class of students has a wide range of reading levels and abilities, thus introductory text as an image, as in Bobby Kalman's books, is invaluable to help build understanding and background knowledge in all students before reading complex, printed text. In other words, "A picture is worth a thousand words."

One prepared graduate competency that the Colorado History Standards stresses is that students be able to "analyze key historical periods and patterns of change over time withing and across nations and cultures." I'm confident that other states have this general standard too.

 I believe Bobby Kalman's books can be used to help students achieve history standards because the books are rich in vocabulary and illustrations, which are sources of information on their own.

Hopefully, these books are still used in the curriculum and are on the school library shelves. But, if a teacher/librarian is weeding non-fiction books, be sure to ask to see the cart and search for these wonderful books by Bobby Kalman to keep and use in your classroom.

Goodreads image

Mixing of the Bloods

Three recent events inspired me to write on this topic. First: November is Native American Heritage month. Second: Immigration reform and the acceptance of refugees are increasingly in the news. Third: On November 18, 2015, Five Star Publishing released Bear Claws, the second book in my trilogy, The Iron Horse Chronicles.

In my books, one fictional character is Charles Lone Eagle Munro, Jr., the son of a white mountain man and a Cheyenne Indian mother. I portray Lone Eagle’s struggle to identify with his proud Indian heritage while also acknowledging the adverse impact Manifest Destiny is perpetrating on that culture. Lone Eagle insists he is Cheyenne, although he is not full-blood. Will Braddock, the trilogy’s protagonist, thinks of his new Indian friend as mixed-blood. Paddy O’Hannigan, the antagonist, refers to Lone Eagle with the derogatory term half-breed.

 

According to the Navajo Times, the 2010 United States Census, reveals 5.2 million, 1.7 percent, of the US population is classified as American Indian and Alaska Native. Of this population, 44 percent of American Indians are considered “mixed-race.” The Navajos claim the largest percentage of full-bloods among American Indians at 86.3 percent.

America has long been known as the melting pot, usually interpreted to mean the beneficial blending of different nationalities and races. The Native American designation used by the government draws the ire of some American Indians, who prefer to be called “Indians.” Notwithstanding any argument over the “political correctness” of nomenclature, the arrival of Europeans in the Americas led to a blending of races that has greatly diminished the percent of full-blood, original inhabitants of the Western Hemisphere.

The mixing of the blood of Caucasians with Indians occurred early in the years of European settlement in the Americas. The story of Pocahontas, and her coming to terms with a world that was changing around her, is often the middle-grade reader’s first exposure to this blending of the bloods. Pocahontas was not mixed-blood, but her son was. Her story has been repeatedly told in print and on screen. Of the many books on this subject, The Double Life of Pocahontas by Jean Fritz won the Laura Ingalls Wilder Medal for its portrayal of her story.

Another middle-grade novel of the blending of the bloods is Sacajawea by Joseph Bruchac. A Shoshone girl, Sacajawea had been captured by the Hidatsa tribe, then married at a young age to Toussaint Charbonneau, a Quebecois (French) trapper. Lewis and Clark engaged Sacajawea and her husband as guides. The great Corps of Discovery Expedition probably would not have been successful in its famous trek to the Pacific Ocean without her help. Sacajawea was not mixed-blood, but like Pocahontas, her son was. In my book Bear Claws, I introduce fictional characters who are related to Sacajawea. One of them becomes the romantic interest of Lone Eagle.

The female involved in starting a mixed-blood family is not always Indian. Cynthia Ann Parker was a white woman whom the Comanches captured when she was about ten years old. She married a Comanche warrior and had three children by him. One of these was Quanah Parker, the last great Comanche chief. I had the privilege of meeting three of Quanah Parker’s great-grandsons during the 2015 Convention of Western Writers of America in Lubbock, Texas. They participated in a workshop on writing about Comanches, which was chaired by my friend Lucia St. Clair Robson. Robson’s wonderful book about Cynthia Ann Parker, Ride the Wind, won a WWA Spur Award. This book might be a struggle for some middle-grade readers, but it would be well worth the effort. An easier read and a fine book for the middle-grade student is Where the Broken Heart Still Beats by Carolyn Meyer.

Both full-blood and mixed-blood Indians have a right to be proud of their heritage and the  contributions they have made to the protection and betterment of all those who claim a relationship to the people who inhabited the Americas before the mixing of the bloods began. In The Iron Horse Chronicles I try to respect the legacy of the American Indian.