Chapter 48

Ordinance against out-door Revelry--Marriage of a Lord of Misrule--Mummers and Mumming--Country Mummers--Early Play--Two modern Plays.

These Christmas revelries were sometimes carried to excess, and needed curbing with the strong hand of the law, an early instance of which we find in Letter Book I. of the Corporation of the City of London, fol. 223, 6 Henry V., A.D. 1418.

"The Mair and Aldermen chargen on þe kynges byhalf, and þis Cite, þat no manere persone, of what astate, degre, or condicoun þat euere he be, duryng þis holy tyme of Christemes be so hardy in eny wyse to walk by nyght in eny manere mommyng, pleyes, enterludes, or eny oþer disgisynges with eny feynyd berdis,[65] peyntid visers, diffourmyd or colourid visages in eny wyse, up peyne of enprisonement of her bodyes and makyng fyne after þe discrecioun of þe Mair and Aldremen; ontake[66] þat hit be leful to eche persone for to be honestly mery as he can, within his owne hous dwellyng. And more ouere þei charge on þe Kynges byhalf, and þe Cite, þat eche honest persone, dwellyng in eny hye strete or lane of þis Citee, hang out of her house eche night, duryng þis solempne Feste, a lanterne with a candell þer in, to brenne[67] as long as hit may endure, up[68] peyne to pay ivd, to þe chaumbre at eche tyme þat hit faillith."

[Footnote 65: False beards.]

[Footnote 66: Except that it shall be.]

[Footnote 67: Burn.]

[Footnote 68: Upon pain of paying.]

And to cite another case, much later in date, the Commissioners for Causes Ecclesiastical kept strict watch on some of the Christmas revellers of 1637. They had before them one Saunders, from Lincolnshire, for carrying revelry too far. Saunders and others, at Blatherwick, had appointed a Lord of Misrule over their festivities. This was perfectly lawful, and could not be gainsaid. But they had resolved that he should have a lady, or Christmas wife; and probably there would have been no harm in that, if they had not carried the matter too far. They, however, brought in as bride one Elizabeth Pitto, daughter of the hog-herd of the town. Saunders received her, disguised as a parson, wearing a shirt or smock for a surplice. He then married the Lord of Misrule to the hog-herd's daughter, reading the whole of the marriage service from the Book of Common Prayer. All the after ceremonies and customs then in use were observed, and the affair was carried to its utmost extent. The parties had time to repent at leisure in prison.

The old English disport of mumming at Christmas is of great antiquity--so great that its origin is lost. Fosbroke, in his _Encyclopædia of Antiquities_ (ed. 1843, ii. 668), says, under the heading "Mummers: These were amusements derived from the Saturnalia, and so called from the Danish _mumme_, or Dutch _momme_--disguise in a mask. Christmas was the grand scene of mumming, and some mummers were disguised as bears, others like unicorns, bringing presents. Those who could not procure masks rubbed their faces with soot, or painted them. In the Christmas mummings the chief aim was to surprise by the oddity of the masks, and singularity and splendour of the dresses. Everything was out of nature and propriety. They were often attended with an exhibition of gorgeous machinery.[69] It was an old custom also to have mummeries on Twelfth night. They were the common holiday amusements of young people of both sexes; but by 6 Edward III. the mummers, or masqueraders, were ordered to be whipped out of London."

[Footnote 69: Fosbroke here seems to have mixed up masquers and mummers.]

The original mumming was in dumb show, and was sometimes of considerable proportions, _vide_ one in 1348, where there were "eighty tunics of buckram, forty-two visors, and a great variety of other whimsical dresses were provided for the disguising at court at the Feast of Christmas." A most magnificent mummery or disguising was exhibited by the citizens of London in 1377, for the amusement of Richard, Prince of Wales, in which no fewer than 130 persons were disguised; which, with that in 1401, I have already described. Philip Stubbes, the Puritan, says: "In 1440, one captain John Gladman, a man ever true and faithful to God and the King, and constantly sportive, made public disport with his neighbours at Christmas. He traversed the town on a horse as gaily caparisoned as himself, preceded by the twelve months, each dressed in character. After him crept the pale attenuated figure of Lent, clothed in herring skins, and mounted on a sorry horse, whose harness was covered with oyster shells. A train, fantastically garbed, followed. Some were clothed as bears, apes, and wolves; others were tricked out in armour; a number appeared as harridans, with blackened faces and tattered clothes, and all kept up a promiscuous fight. Last of all marched several carts, whereon a number of fellows, dressed as old fools, sat upon nests, and pretended to hatch young fools."

We still have our mummers in very many a country village; but the sport is now confined to the village boys, who, either masked or with painted faces, ribbons, and other finery (I have known them tricked out with paper streamers, obtained from a neighbouring paper mill), act a play(!), and, of course, ask for money at its conclusion. By some, it is considered that this play originated in the commemoration of the doughty deeds of the Crusaders.

The earliest of these plays that I can find is in a fifteenth century MS.--_temp._ Edward IV.--and the characters are the nine worthies:

_Ector de Troye._ Thow Achylles in bataly me slow, Of my worthynes men speken I now.

_Alisander._ And in romaunce often am I leyt, As conqueror gret thow I seyt.

_Julius Cæsar._ Thow my cenatoures me slow in c[=o]llory, Fele londes byfore by conquest wan I.

_Josue._ In holy Chyrche 3e mowen here and rede, Of my worthynes and of my dede.

_Dauit._ After y^{t} slayn was Golyas, By me the sawter than made was.

_Judas Macabeus._ Of my wurthynesse 3yf 3e wyll wete, Secke the byble, for ther it is wrete.

_Arthour._ The round tabyll I sette w^{t} Knyghtes strong, Zyt shall I come a3en, thow it be long.

_Charles._ With me dwellyd Rouland Olyvere, In all my conquest fer and nere.

_Godefry de Boleyn._ And I was Kyng of Jherusalem, The crowne of thorn I wan fro hem.

Of the comparatively modern play acted by the mummers space only enables me to give two examples, although I could give many more. The first is the simplest, and only requires three principal actors, and this is still played in Oxfordshire.[70]

[Footnote 70: _Notes and Queries_, 6th series xii. 489.]

_A Knight enters with his sword drawn, and says:_

Room, room, make room, brave gallants all, For me and my brave company! Where's the man that dares bid me stand? I'll cut him down with my bold hand!

_St. George._ Here's the man that dares bid you stand; He defies your courageous hand!

_The Knight._ Then mind your eye, to guard the blow, And shield your face, and heart also.

(_St. George gets wounded in the combat, and falls._)

Doctor, Doctor, come here and see, St. George is wounded in the knee; Doctor, Doctor, play well your part. St. George is wounded in the heart!

(_The Doctor enters._)

I am a Doctor, and a Doctor good, And with my hand I'll stop the blood.

_The Knight._ What can you cure, Doctor?

_The Doctor._ I can cure coughs, colds, fevers, gout, Both pains within and aches without; I will bleed him in the thumb.

_St. George._ O! will you so? then I'll get up and run!

_Some more Mummers or Minstrels come in, and they sing the following stanza, accompanied by the Hurdy Gourdy_:--

My father, he killed a fine fat hog, And that you may plainly see; My mother gave me the guts of the hog, To make a hurdy gourdy.

_Then they repeat the song in full chorus, and dance._

The other example is far more elaborate, and was read by J.S. Udal, Esquire, in a paper on Christmas Mummers in Dorsetshire before the Folk-lore Society, 13th April 1880. He said: "I will now proceed to give the entire rendering of the first version as it was obtained for me, some few years ago, by an old Dorsetshire lady, who is now dead, and in this the _dramatis personæ_ are as follow:--

"OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS. ROOM. ANTHONY, the Egyptian King. ST. GEORGE. ST. PATRICK. CAPTAIN BLUSTER. GRACIOUS KING. GENERAL VALENTINE. COLONEL SPRING. OLD BETTY. DOCTOR. SERVANT-MAN."

_Enter_ OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

Here comes I, Father Christmas, welcome, or welcome not, I hope Old Father Christmas will never be forgot. Although it is Old Father Christmas, he has but a short time to stay I am come to show you pleasure, and pass the time away. I have been far, I have been near, And now, I am come to drink a pot of your Christmas beer; And, if it is your best, I hope, in heaven your soul will rest. If it is a pot of your small, We cannot show you no Christmas at all. Walk in, Room, again I say, And, pray, good people, clear the way. Walk in, Room.

_Enter_ ROOM.

God bless you all, Ladies and Gentlemen, It's Christmas time, and I am come again. My name is Room, one sincere and true, A merry Christmas I wish to you. King of Egypt is for to display, A noble champion without delay. St. Patrick too, a charming Irish youth, He can fight, or dance, or love a girl with truth. A noble Doctor, I do declare, and his surprising tricks, bring up the rear. And let the Egyptian King straightway appear.

_Enter_ EGYPTIAN KING.

Here comes I, Anthony, the Egyptian King. With whose mighty acts, all round the globe doth ring; No other champion but me excels, Except St. George, my only son-in-law. Indeed, that wondrous Knight, whom I so dearly love, Whose mortal deeds the world dost well approve, The hero whom no dragon could affright, A whole troop of soldiers couldn't stand in sight. Walk in, St. George, his warlike ardour to display, And show Great Britain's enemies dismay. Walk in, St. George.

_Enter_ ST. GEORGE.

Here am I, St. George, an Englishman so stout, With those mighty warriors I long to have a bout; No one could ever picture me the many I have slain, I long to fight, it's my delight, the battle o'er again. Come then, you boasting champions, And here, that in war I doth take pleasure, I will fight you all, both great and small, And slay you at my leisure. Come, haste, away, make no delay, For I'll give you something you won't like, And, like a true-born Englishman, I will fight you on my stumps. And, now, the world I do defy, To injure me before I die. So, now, prepare for war, for that is my delight.

_Enter_ ST. PATRICK, _who shakes hands with_ ST. GEORGE.

My worthy friend, how dost thou fare, St. George? Answer, my worthy Knight.

ST. GEORGE.

I am glad to find thee here; In many a fight that I have been in, travelled far and near, To find my worthy friend St. Patrick, that man I love so dear. Four bold warriors have promised me To meet me here this night to fight. The challenge did I accept, but they could not me affright.

ST. PATRICK.

I will always stand by that man that did me first enlarge, I thank thee now, in gratitude, my worthy friend, St. Geärge; Thou did'st first deliver me out of this wretched den, And now I have my liberty, I thank thee once again.

_Enter_ CAPTAIN BLUSTER.

I'll give St. George a thrashing, I'll make him sick and sore, And, if I further am disposed, I'll thrash a dozen more.

ST. PATRICK.

Large words, my worthy friend, St. George is here, And likewise St. Patrick too; And he doth scorn such men as you. I am the man for thee, Therefore, prepare yourself to fight with me; Or, else, I'll slay thee instantly.

CAPTAIN BLUSTER.

Come on, my boy! I'll die before I yield to thee, or twenty more.

(_They fight, and_ ST. PATRICK _kills_ CAPTAIN BLUSTER.)

ST. PATRICK.

Now one of St. George's foes is killed by me, Who fought the battle o'er, And, now, for the sake of good St. George, I'll freely fight a hundred more.

ST. GEORGE.

No, no, my worthy friend, St. George is here, I'll fight the other three; And, after that, with Christmas beer, So merry we will be.

_Enter_ GRACIOUS KING.

No beer, or brandy, Sir, I want, my courage for to rise, I only want to meet St. George, or take him by surprise; But I am afraid he never will fight me, I wish I could that villain see.

ST. GEORGE.

Tremble, thou tyrant, for all thy sin that's past, Tremble to think that this night will be thy last. Thy conquering arms shall quickly by thee lay alone And send thee, passing, to eternal doom. St. George will make thy armour ring; St. George will soon despatch the Gracious King.

GRACIOUS KING.

I'll die before I yield to thee, or twenty more.

(_They fight_, ST. GEORGE _kills the_ GRACIOUS KING.)

ST. GEORGE.

He was no match for me, he quickly fell.

_Enter_ GENERAL VALENTINE.

But I am thy match, and that my sword shall tell, Prepare thyself to die, and bid thy friends farewell. I long to fight such a brave man as thee, For it's a pleasure to fight so manfully (_a line missing._) Rations so severe he never so long to receive. So cruel! for thy foes are always killed; Oh! what a sight of blood St. George has spilled! I'll fight St. George the hero here, Before I sleep this night. Come on, my boy, I'll die before I yield to thee, or twenty more. St. George, thou and I'll the battle try, If thou dost conquer I will die.

(_They fight_, ST. GEORGE _kills the_ GENERAL.)

ST. GEORGE.

Where now is Colonel Spring? he doth so long delay, That hero of renown, I long to show him play.

_Enter_ COLONEL SPRING.

Holloa! behold me, here am I! I'll have thee now prepare, And by this arm thou'lt surely die, I'll have thee this night, beware. So, see, what bloody works thou'st made, Thou art a butcher, sir, by trade. I'll kill, as thou did'st kill my brother, For one good turn deserves another.

(_They fight_, ST. GEORGE _kills the_ COLONEL.)

ST. PATRICK.

Stay thy hand, St. George, and slay no more; for I feel for the wives and families of those men thou hast slain.

ST. GEORGE.

So am I sorry. I'll freely give any sum of money to a doctor to restore them again. I have heard talk of a mill to grind old men young, but I never heard of a doctor to bring dead men to life again.

ST. PATRICK.

There's an Irish doctor, a townsman of mine, who lived next door to St. Patrick, he can perform wonders. Shall I call him, St. George?

ST. GEORGE.

With all my heart. Please to walk in, Mr. Martin Dennis. It's an ill wind that blows no good work for the doctor. If you will set these men on

_Enter_ DOCTOR.

their pins, I'll give thee a hundred pound, and here is the money.

DOCTOR.

So I will, my worthy knight, and then I shall not want for whiskey for one twelvemonth to come. I am sure, the first man I saw beheaded, I put his head on the wrong way. I put his mouth where his poll ought to be, and he's exhibited in a wondering nature.

ST. GEORGE.

Very good answer, Doctor. Tell me the rest of your miracles, and raise those warriors.

DOCTOR.

I can cure love-sick maidens, jealous husbands, squalling wives, brandy-drinking dames, with one touch of my triple liquid, or one sly dose of my Jerusalem balsam, and that will make an old crippled dame dance the hornpipe, or an old woman of seventy years of age conceive and bear a twin. And now to convince you all of my exertions,--Rise, Captain Bluster, Gracious King, General Valentine, and Colonel Spring! Rise, and go to your father!

(_On the application of the medicine they all rise and retire._)

_Enter_ OLD BET.

Here comes dame Dorothy, A handsome young woman, good morning to ye. I am rather fat, but not very tall, I'll do my best endeavour to please you all. My husband, he is to work, and soon he will return, And something for our supper bring, And, perhaps, some wood to burn. Oh! here he comes!

_Enter_ JAN, _or_ OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

Well! Jan.

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

Oh! Dorothy.

OLD BET.

What have you been doing all this long day, Jan?

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

I have been a-hunting, Bet.

OLD BET.

The devil! a-hunting is it? Is that the way to support a wife? Well, what have you catched to-day, Jan?

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

A fine jack hare, and I intend to have him a-fried for supper; and here is some wood to dress him.

OLD BET.

Fried! no, Jan, I'll roast it nice.

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

I say, I'll have it fried.

OLD BET.

Was there ever such a foolish dish!

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

No matter for that. I'll have it a-done; and if you don't do as I do bid, I'll hit you in the head.

OLD BET.

You may do as you like for all I do care, I'll never fry a dry jack hare.

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

Oh! you won't, wooll'ee?

(_He strikes her and she falls._)

Oh! what have I done! I have murdered my wife! The joy of my heart, and the pride of my life. And out to the gaol I quickly shall be sent. In a passion I did it, and no malice meant. Is there a doctor that can restore? Fifty pounds I'll give him, or twice fifty more.

(_Some one speaks._)

Oh! yes, Uncle Jan, there is a doctor just below, and for God's sake let him just come in. Walk in, Doctor.

_Enter_ DOCTOR.

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

Are you a doctor?

DOCTOR.

Yes, I am a doctor--a doctor of good fame. I have travelled through Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and by long practice and experience I have learned the best of cures for most disorders instant (_incident?_) to the human body; find nothing difficult in restoring a limb, or mortification, or an arm being cut off by a sword, or a head being struck off by a cannon-ball, if application have not been delayed till it is too late.

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

You are the very man, I plainly see, That can restore my poor old wife to me. Pray tell me thy lowest fee.

DOCTOR.

A hundred guineas, I'll have to restore thy wife, 'Tis no wonder that you could not bring the dead to life.

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

That's a large sum of money for a dead wife!

DOCTOR.

Small sum of money to save a man from the gallows. Pray what big stick is that you have in your hand?

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

That is my hunting pole.

DOCTOR.

Put aside your hunting pole, and get some assistance to help up your wife.

(OLD BET _is raised up to life again._)

Fal, dal, lal! fal, dal, lal! my wife's alive!

_Enter_ SERVANT MAN _who sings._

Well met, my brother dear! All on the highway Sall and I were walking along, So I pray, come tell to me What calling you might be. I'll have you for some serving man.

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

I'll give thee many thanks, And I'll quit thee as soon as I can; Vain did I know Where thee could do so or no, For to the pleasure of a servant man.

SERVANT MAN.

Some servants of pleasure Will pass time out of measure, With our hares and hounds They will make the hills and valleys sound That's a pleasure for some servant man.

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

My pleasure is more than for to see my oxen grow fat, And see them prove well in their kind, A good rick of hay, and a good stack of corn to fill up my barn, That's a pleasure of a good honest husband man.

SERVANT MAN.

Next to church they will go with their livery fine and gay, With their cocked-up hat, and gold lace all round, And their shirt so white as milk, And stitched so fine as silk, That's a habit for a servant man.

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

Don't tell I about thee silks and garments that's not fit to travel the bushes. Let I have on my old leather coat, And in my purse a groat, And there, that's a habit for a good old husband man.

SERVANT MAN.

Some servant men doth eat The very best of meat, A cock, goose, capon, and swan; After lords and ladies dine, We'll drink strong beer, ale, and wine; That's a diet for some servant man.

OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS.

Don't tell I of the cock, goose, or capon, nor swan; let I have a good rusty piece of bacon, pickled pork, in the house, and a hard crust of bread and cheese once now and then; that's a diet for a good old honest husband man.

So we needs must confess That your calling is the best, And we will give you the uppermost hand; So no more we won't delay, But we will pray both night and day, God bless the honest husband man. Amen.

[_Exeunt_ OMNES.]