We claim for this sketch no completeness: we are chiefly concerned with
the Morris as a lapsed yet living art, calling, as we hold, for revival;
we look to the Morris-men, not primarily as subject-matter for the
industrious archæologist, but as heralds to the sweetening of the town
life of England and the re-peopling of her forsaken countryside. We have
nevertheless taken some trouble in our search for all that is interesting
and genuine as concerns the Morris, in the literature of our own country,
and others. For the benefit of those inclined to follow the subject
farther in its historical aspect than it is herein treated, we have
appended a list of books in which we have found items of interest.
So far as we can discover, there is no single work devoted to the topic:
all that is to be gleaned of it from books consists only in scraps of
information, most of them very brief, some contradictory; as a rule
almost casually introduced in works upon dancing, ancient games and
customs, and such like.
Even the origin of the name Morris and the true source of the dance are
not to be traced with absolute certainty. Most authorities accept, or
assert, that the dance is Moorish in origin: some again bring evidence to
show that the English Morris (or Morrice) owed nothing whatever to the
Moors. Still, the weight of testimony must be held to show Morocco as the
fount and origin, no matter if the genius of our own folk--so very far
removed from anything native to Africa--has, in the process of the
centuries, altered it until it bears, in spirit, little resemblance to
the parent stock.
If the spirit has been Anglicised, the steps remain. Tabourot, for
instance, a very quaint and interesting writer on dancing, tells us that
when he was a youth--that would be early in the 16th century--it was the
custom in good society for a boy to come into the hall after supper with
his face blackened, his forehead bound with white or yellow taffeta, and
bells tied to his legs. He then proceeded to dance the Morisco the length
of the hall, forth and back, to the great amusement of the company. So
says Tabourot, long dead; and to-day we learn that, in most winters, a
side of Morris-men dances at White Ladies Aston, one-and-a-half mile from
Spetchley, Worcester. They blacken their faces and have for music
accordion, triangle, and tambourine: their flute-player died recently.
Tabourot suggests that the bells might have been borrowed from the
_crotali_ of the ancients in the Pyrrhic dance. He then describes the
more modern Morris dance, which was performed by striking the ground with
the fore part of the feet; but as this proved fatiguing the work was
given to the heels, the toes being kept firm, whereby the bells jingled
more effectively. He adds that this method in turn was modified, as it
tended to bring on gouty complaints.
We are given by the same writer a notation of the Morisco, or Morisque,
music, steps, and description: this shows as nearly as possible the steps
of the Morris as we have seen it danced in England to-day.
Again, Engel, in a passage to us of extraordinary interest, gives in
modern notation "... one of the tunes headed La Morisque, probably the
oldest tune of the famous Morris dance still extant. As it is interesting
from having been printed in the year 1550, when most likely it was
already an old tune, it shall be inserted here ...." And there we found
the same tune which Tabourot gives for the dance that he described, as we
have already told. It is the tune of "Morris Off," which we reproduce in
our books of tunes. Just a few weeks earlier we had taken down, at
Redditch, from the fiddler of the Bidford Morris-men, the same tune,
note for note, as Tabourot gives it. Here in truth is a signal instance
of that persistence and continuity which is always cropping up, to the
lasting amazement and delight of the student of Folk-music--to the
delight more especially of the student who, like ourselves, holds that in
our Folk-music is a treasury not to be hoarded for the delectation of the
scholar, but to be expended with both hands for the revivifying of a
national spirit.
The Morris, then--once also the Moresc--of England; La Morisque and
Morisco of France; the Moresca of Corsica, danced by armed men to
represent a conflict between Moors and Christians--is in all reasonable
probability Moorish in origin: never mind if in our own country it is
become as English as fisticuffs, as the dance called "How d'ye do" will
show--wherein our own folk, after their own manner, have suggested
strife, as in the Corsican variety. Holland, as is told by Engel, was
infected too; industrious research, in fact, will probably show that the
Morris in some shape or other was known throughout Europe, and beyond. As
for the date of its introduction into England that is impossible to state
with certainty; but most authorities point to the time of Edward III.,
maybe when John of Gaunt returned from Spain, as probably the earliest
when Morris-men were seen in England. It is said also that we had it from
the French; another lays its introduction to the credit of the Flemings.
The window with its Morris-men shown in our frontispiece is probably of
the time of Edward IV.
Schemes of wider research, however, we are content to leave in the hands
of the intrepid Folk-lorist. We are concerned here to extract from a mass
of notes and references some outstanding few, to remind practising and
potential Morris-dancers of to-day that this new-old art, if not
indigenous, has been, like many another foreign importation, assimilated
much to our advantage.
The Morisco, from which our own Morris has obviously descended, seems to
have been originally both a solo and square dance, the latter being
performed by sides (that is, sets) of six. The solo Morris existed all
along, and still exists. When we saw our friend Kimber (mentioned
elsewhere) dance his Morris jig to the tune of "Rodney," had our other
old friend Tabourot been present in the spirit--maybe he was--he need
have altered nothing in the description we have quoted but to substitute
for the boy with his face blackened a sturdy English yeoman, and to note
some differences in the get-up of the dancer. The solo dance has been
performed also at Bampton, between tobacco-pipes laid crosswise on the
ground--to the tune of the "Bacca Pipes" jig, or "Green
Sleeves"--suggesting the Scottish sword-dance, and in many other
fashions.
Another feature in the history of the English Morris, which by this time
may be called impossible to account for with any exactitude, is that in
the elder days the Mummers and their plays, the Robin Hood games and
other ancient diversions with their characters and customs, became
allied--or rather mixed up--with the Morris-men, upon May-day and
occasions of festivity such as the Leet-ales, Lamb-ales, Bride-ales, &c.
To what extent they were allied, or mixed, will probably baffle even the
combined powers of all our archæologists to discover. In an old woodcut,
for instance, preserved on the title of a penny history (Adam Bell, &c.)
printed at Newcastle in 1772, is apparently the representation of a
Morris dance, consisting of--A Bishop (or friar), Robin Hood, the Potter
or Beggar, Little John, Friar Tuck, Maid Marian. Robin Hood and Little
John carry bows of length befitting the size of each. The window, too,
shown in the frontispiece is proof that the Morris-dancers were attended
by other characters. The following, from Ben Jonson's "The Metamorphosed
Gipsies," supplies further evidence to the same effect:--
They should be a Morris dancers by their jingle, but they have no
napkins.
No, nor a hobby horse.
Oh, he's often forgotten, that's no rule; but there is no Maid
Marian nor friar amongst them, which is the surer mark.
Nor a fool that I see.
But other characters, introduced for whatsoever reason, gradually
disappeared, until the Morris company, as a general thing, consisted only
of the dancers, the piper--that is, the musician--and the fool.
The hobby-horse, described later, was habitually associated with the
Morris, until the Puritans, by their preachings and invective, succeeded
in banishing it as an impious and pagan superstition. This accounts for
the expression, "The hobby-horse quite forgotten"; and gives a touch of
prophecy to Shakespeare's lament: "For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is
forgot." As is well known, however, the hobby-horse still prances in
England to-day; at Minehead and Padstow, for instance, as an ancient and
hallowed institution on its own account, and performing with the
Morris-men at Bidford.
Other implements and characters may be found, used by and performing with
the Morris-men, that originally had no connection with the Morris, but
were borrowed from other pastimes. As we have said, however, this sets
out to be no exhaustive study, whether of the Morris when it was a
national dance, or of all its survivals at the present time. Such a study
would in scope and purpose far outrun the limits of our intention.
Broadly speaking, the peculiar characteristics of the Morris, as it was
in its heyday and as it has survived amongst us, are these: Leaving aside
the solo dances, upon which we shall not touch further, the Morris is
performed by six men; the records show that women have occasionally, but
rarely, figured as performers. A musician is of course indispensable;
also, as it seems, a fool, to supply comic relief and give the dancers
breathing-time. The fool often goes by the name of "Squire," sometimes of
"Rodney." These are practically invariable; but beyond and beside these,
other characters have accompanied the dancers. The hobby-horse we have
already mentioned as a popular addition. Some took with them an
assistant, called the ragman, to carry the dancers' extra clothing. Then,
a person in various disguises and habiliments went--and still goes--with
the dancers to collect money, if it might be, from admiring lookers-on:
sometimes the fool himself served both as the type of unwisdom and its
opposite, who bears the money-box.
In some parts of the country a swordbearer accompanied the Morris-men.
This officer carried a rich pound-cake impaled upon his sword-point--cake
and sword were be-ribboned, the former being supplied by some local lady;
and during the dances slices of it were given amongst the audience who
were expected to respond with coin for the treasury. A slice of cake was
by way of bringing luck to the receiver; the credulous even treasured a
piece of it the year round as a minister of good fortune.
Generally speaking, these must be regarded as the fixed and regular
performers and accompaniments of the Morris. But, according to time and
place, the additions to and varieties of these were innumerable. When the
dance was popular, it may almost be said that every village sporting a
troupe had its own peculiar variation in dress or character or other
particular of its programme and _personnel_, by which it was known; and
by these singularities each set of Morris-men and their backers held
resolutely. There was competition, once, amongst the Morris-folk as there
is to-day amongst football teams and their adherents. Many a bout, begun
in friendly rivalry, ended in a scrimmage, in which the staves brought
for use and ornament in the dance were used to break heads with. We are
grown vastly more delicate and refined since then, it is supposed.
Before we go on to note some leading features in the dress and
paraphernalia of the Morris-men, one more memory of the days that are
gone--maybe in some fashion to return, maybe not--tempts to quotation.
It is from the church-wardens' accounts of the parish of
Kingston-upon-Thames, and in our prejudiced eyes has a dignity, and
somehow a promise, all its own. It is from Lysons' "Environs of London,"
vol. i., 1792, p. 226, and runs:--
For paynting of the mores garments and £ s. d.
for sarten gret leveres 0 2 4
For 4 plyts and ½ of lawn for the mores
garments 0 2 11