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When I came to this Somerset village many years ago I revived the tradition of the Mummer's Play - a midwinter ritual which was once payed out in villages throughout Britain at Christmas time, but which now has all but died out.
Our play tells the story of the battle between Summer (or Good) and Winter (or Evil). At one o'clock on Boxing day a troupe of strangely garbed figures processes into the village square led by assorted musicians playing some strange old melody. A man dressed in black and disguised with a mask (for this he is known as the Guiser) steps forward to introduce the characters: |
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The Guiser addresses the crowd |
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'You may wonder what is the Mummer's play, and what is its meaning.
This is what there was before there was Christmas.
The Winter Solstice and the turn of the year was then celebrated by a play of ritual and symbolism.
Here we have the fight between Summer ( St. George), and Winter (The Black Knight). You shall see Summer killed by Winter and then Summer's rebirth by extraordinary means. And then you will see the death of Winter. This is the story of the seasons.
There is (supposedly) humour in this play but its true meaning lies much deeper.'
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St George steps forward & boasts of his great deeds. A shabby fellow now a year he's definitely passed his best. His Mother steps forward to tell of his virtues - but the happy scene is destroyed as Winter approaches and throws down the gauntlet. There is argument and reflection - but ultimately it ends in blows and Winter, being in the ascendant, is victorious: two swords run through St. George & he lies dead.
'Is there a Doctor to be found? Is there a doctor to be found? For a Doctor I'd give a good ten pounds...'
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(We have been lucky to secure the services of our local village doctor in this role & so this bit always gets a laugh).
He steps forward, Doctor Goode - playing in truth God in all his miraculous curing & revival of Summer - though at first sight he seems a bit of a quack.
'Just what can you cure, good Doctor?'
'I can cure:
The hipsy, the pipsy,
The palsy and the gout,
(and if the Devil's in a man
I'm sure to fetch him out).
The warble, the gorble
The rumbling of the tubes,
The itch, the stitch,
The rotting of the pubes,
The migraine, the peabrain,
The stutters and commotions,
The pox, vox, strangulion,
The torpor of the motions.
Not a one will stand the test
Against my famous potions !'
There's a general rummaging in his bag - from which emerge rubber chickens, saws, large syringes - but eventually the miraculous HickmanPickman pills and the Allygumption lotion. |
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So Summer is reborn and the figures come together to perform a sword dance, at the end of which the swords are knotted together to form a star shaped 'lock' - the Black Knight is brought to his knees and the swords lowered over his head.At this point, once upon a time, there would have been blood spilt - the voluntary sacrifice of the leader of a tribe to bring hope & rebirth to that tribe is a notion which long predates the sacrifice made by Christ.
But there is no sacrifice, not today.
The dance ends and the actors take a bow.
It is done for another year.
They retire, wet a disheveled to 'The Bird in Hand' for a warming drink. |
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Beezlebob bids farewell |
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We first performed the Play in 1990 and have maintained (more or less) the same cast throughout. Our first appearance was played out in front of a very few people - but it has now grown to be a popular part of the Village Calendar and a couple of hundred people fill the Square to watch us re-enact the Ritual, come rain or shine.
In 2007 I finally had the opportunity to make a record of the performance - publishing an illustrated script - which includes a CD of a studio recording of the performance.
A lasting record of many a Winter's Day's performance |
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