THAT LATIN BEAT LONG AGO

Those of us who were long-serving members of St John's Church Choir, Brigg, in the 1960s didn't think the hymns at Brigg Grammar School's assemblies would cause us any concerns. But we were wrong. For at the very end of Christmas term (about this time of year), the entire school was required to sing O Come All Ye Faithful...in Latin:

Adeste, fideles, laeti triumphantes;
Venite, venite in Bethlehem.
Natum videte Regem angelorum.

Venite adoremus, venite adoremus,
Venite adoremus, Dominum.

There were other verses to perfect, too!

They still taught Latin as a subject at BGS back then, perhaps because doctors were still using it to write their prescriptions for chemists to decipher.

Being in St John's Church Choir had its interesting moments. They were always on the lookout for boy sopranos - don't read anything sinister into that! - but once your voice broke you were in danger of being surplice to requirements.
That's another attempt at a Latin link on my part. For those Blog followers who might not know, a surplice (Late Latin superpelliceum, from super, "over" and pellis, "fur") is a liturgical vestment of the Western Christian Church. Our surplices were starched white.
You wore a surplice over your black cassock. The cassock, an item of clerical clothing, is an ankle-length robe worn by clerics (and clearly choirboys) of the Roman Catholic Church, Eastern Orthodox Church, Anglican Church, Lutheran Church and some clerics of the Reformed churches. Ankle-length garment is the meaning of the corresponding Latin term, vestis talaris. The cassock derives historically from the tunic that, in ancient Rome, was worn underneath the toga.

After been paid (quarterly) at St John's Church, members of the choir would dash round to Wrawby Street to treat ourselves to a bar of chocolate from a slot machine (I think it was near Instone's shop). Or sample a bag of chips which we would eat, from the newspaper, while poking fun at people in the big display of black and white photos in the Lincolnshire Times office window at No 57.
Our choirmistress/organist was Miss Blythe, who drove over from Wootton in an old, black Austin or Morris car, which she parked round the corner in Cadney Road. "Don't drag!" she would demand during the twice-weekly choir practices, meaning we were not keeping time correctly. Periodically the Vicar, the Rev (later Canon) Roger Chappell, would put in an appearance. He sang the descant, which was off-putting if you were near to him while he was in full cry. A discant (occasionally, particularly later, written descant) is a form of medieval music in which one singer sang a fixed melody, and others accompanied with improvisations. The word in this sense comes from the term discantus supra librum (descant "above the book"), and is a form of Gregorian chant in which only the melody is notated but an improvised polyphony is understood. The discantus supra librum had specific rules governing the improvisation of the additional voices.
Originally, choristers thought His Reverence was awfully out of tune, not having been told he was deliberately singing that way. A bit like the Morecambe and Wise sketch with top conductor Andre Previn (dubbed "Mr Preview") in which Eric bashed out a terrible rendition of Greig's piano masterpiece, only to announce that he had been playing all the correct notes, but not necessarily in the right order.
Being in the choir was good socially, as it brought together Brigg Preparatory School pupils and those from Brigg County Primary, Glebe Road. Many of us would go on to be in the same classes at Brigg Grammar after the 11-plus.
Memories of Adeste, fideles were rekindled the other day during a chat with another Grammar School veteran of the 1960s. Our discussions progressed to memories of our old headmaster, H B Williams (pictured above). He had arrived from Repton Public School (in 1959) and became a very keen supporter of the school magazine, in which were listed the comers and goers - staff and pupils. Headings like Salvete (meaning: hail, welcome, farewell) were used. But as the school mag was intended to be read by all pupils' parents - they helped keep it going through a school fund contribution each term - the use of Latin must be questioned. Surely the school should have realised some boys came from ordinary working class stock and to their parents Latin was, quite literally, a foreign language. Was it meant to portray a feeling of superiority (within the school) and inferiority (on the part of those who weren't educated enough to know the meaning)? The school magazine and even the school history, published in 1669 for the 300th anniversary, include other lapses into Latin.
If you found the Latin translations above irritating, but necessary, perhaps you will agree we've proved our point about Brigg Grammar's use of a language other than English. Especially as few pupils were being taught Latin by the late 1960s and early 1970s. It was an option you could chose, not what they'd call today a core subject.
Oh...and Brigg's Vicar pronounced his surname "Sha-pell". The word Chappell has its origins in Old French and, yes, you've guessed, Medieval Latin.