<While hiding from the bailiffs in 1671 at Broad Chalk, Aubrey
(see i. 52) set himself to compose a comedy descriptive
of country life as he had seen it, abating nothing of its
grossness, and concealing nothing of its immorality. The rude
draft of this comedy is found in MS. Aubrey 21, written in the
blank spaces and between the lines of a long legal document.
Although few of the scenes are sketched, and fewer completed,
it is possible to form an idea of the scope and plot of the
piece.
The jumbling together of all classes of society in the rude
merriment of a country wake was designed to bring out the
follies and vices of them all. A few gentlemen and ladies
of the old school, of courtly manners and decent carriage,
were brought in to set out by contrast the boorishness,
the insolence, and the mad drunken bouts of Aubrey's
contemporaries. A mixed company of sow-gelders, carters,
dairy-maids, gypsies, were to give evidence, in dialogue and
song, of the coarse talk and the vile ideas of the vulgar. And
a still more disreputable rout of squires who had left their
wives and taken up with cook-maids, and of heiresses who had
run away with grooms, was to exemplify the degradation of the
gentry. In several cases, over the names of his _Dramatis
Personae_, Aubrey has jotted the names or initials of the real
persons he was copying.
The plot was to have a double movement; on the one hand, the
innocent loves of a boy and girl of gentle birth, living in
disguise as shepherd and dairy-maid, the 'Lord and Lady of
the Maypole,' and, on the other hand, the fortunes of an
adulteress, pursued by her husband, following her paramour
in page's attire, jealous of his attentions to other women,
ending in murder all round--'Raynes[1356] comes and invades
Sir Fastidious Overween, and is slayne by him; and then Sir
Fastidious neglects her; she comes and stabbes him, and then
herselfe.'
The scene, on the title-page, is laid, for a blind, at 'Aldford
in Cheshire, by the river Dee, St. Peters day, 1669'; but in
act i, scene 1, Aubrey, laying pretence aside, places it on
'Christian Malford green' in his own district in Wiltshire,
near Kington St. Michael, Draycot Cerne, etc.
Taken as a whole, both in what is written out and in the
anecdotes collected to be worked into the plot, the comedy
affords a terrible picture of the corruption of Aubrey's county
and times. It may be compared with the society pictures in Anne
Brontë's _The Tenant of Wildfell Hall_.
Two scenes, of the less offensive ones, may serve to give
a faint idea of this curious piece of seventeenth century
realism.>
[1357]THE COUNTREY REVELL.
=Act II, scene iii.=
A faire roome. Enter Sir Eglamour, Lady Euphrasia, Lady Pamela:
to them, Sir Eubule Nestor; then, squire Fitz-ale.
_Sir J. Fitz-ale._ Sir Eglamour, your most humble servant.
_Sir Eglamour._ Sir John Fitz-ale, the welcomest man alive.
_Fitz-ale._ Save you, ladies! I'm come to wayte on you at the famous
revell here, to help celebrate the festivall of St. Peter.
_Ladyes._ Most kindly donne, Sir John! We heard you strictly kept his
virgil last night at Justice Wagstaff's.
_Fitz-ale._ So strickt that none of us have been a-bed to-night, that's
the trueth on't. I beleeve, since the Conquest, St. Peter had never a
merrier eve observed.
_Ladyes._ Pray, Sir John, favour us to let us heare some of the mirth.
_Fitz-ale._ Why, ladies, yesterday we Cheshire gentlemen mett at a
barrell of ale at the bull-ring where we sufficiently bayted both bull
and barrell; and having well dranke there, staved and tayled, till 5
a-clock i' th' afternoon, wee were invited to the Justice's; where
being come into the great hall wee mett for a good omen the servants
labouring at heaving into the cellar a teirce of French wine, newly
brought by the barge from Chester. Faith! we had a frolique, and voted
it (_nemine contradicente_) to have itt sett abroach in the midest
of the hall. To worke we goe, and we four knights mount the tierce,
bestride it, like the _quarter files_[1358] _d'Amond_ upon one horse.
Then we dranke his Majestie's health, the Queen's, and the royall
family: then, faire ladies, (_he bowes_) your two healths; then, our
mistresses: then, God knows who--till the cooke knockt for supper. So
the tierce was reprieved till after supper, a guard sett over it. As
wee were going to sitt downe to supper in the parlour a sudden quarrell
arose between Sir Fastidious Overween and Captain Quarelsome about
precedency. To cuffs they fell, all in confusion; the ladies cryed out,
Sir Fastidious' great periwig was throwne into the fire and made an
abominable stinke.
_Sir Eubule_[1359]. Blesse me! What unheard of rudenesse! This to be
donne at a gentleman's house and by gentlemen, senators, parliamentary
justices of the peace!
_Sir J. Fitz-ale._ In this scuffle the chiape of Capt. Quarelsome's
sword hitcht in the cubboard of glasses: downe came all the glasses
of the butler with a most dreadfull esclate. But this is not all--the
cross-bar[1360] of Sir Fastidious' sword hitchd in my old ladie's vaile
and pluckt it off, together with her periwig, and showed her poor bald
old death's head.
_Sir Eubule._ Lord blesse me!
_Sir J. Fitz-ale._ The Justice and I struck in between 'em and parted
'em, and, with something more trouble then staving and tayling dog and
bull[1361], they were reconciled and sate down opposite to each other.
To a noble supper we sate downe.
After supper desert was brought. My country gentlemen catcht and
snatchd like schoolboies and gobbt up the sweetmeats like ducks,
and.... And being very drunke, some putt even marmalade into their
pocketts. A noble carpet in the parlour trayled on the ground, which
with their dirty bootes they made the faire edge and bordure as dirty
as a woman's saddlecloth.
Supper being ended, faith! the justice would have the tother bout
at the butt for a confirmation of friendship[1362] between the two
antagonists. I could not refuse to help carry on such a good worke of
charity. So we drank friendly on till 2 a-clock i' th' morning. By that
time you may well thinke our braines were well warmd. We sung[1363],
hooped, hallowd, jubilled--set the cennell of hounds all in a larum. We
had the wenches and all the servants of the house to participate in the
great jubilee.
Well, about daybrake 'twas the generall vote for the unhinging of the
cellar dore and throwe it from the precipice of the cliffe into the
Dee. The good old dore, that haz turnd on his hinges for these two
centuries of yeares in the dayes of his hospitable ancestors, was taken
downe, and by four tall fellowes borne to the cliffe. Hautboies[1364]
loud musique playd before; the bearers followed; and then came the
chiefe mourners, the butler, brewer, and pantler, weeping with
blubbered eies for the decease of that had turnd out and doubled in the
dayes of his hospitable ancestors:--'it was an ill omen[1365] of the
fall of that ancient family.'
_Sir Eubule._ And they sayd well. I knew their Justice's grandfather
and great grandfather too. <They> kept 12 men in blew coates and
badges. We had no such doings in their daies. They were sober, prudent;
kept good well-ordered hospitality. We are like to have a fine world
when Parliament men and Justices shall give such lewd example....
_Fitz-ale._ Well! after the mourners, we came with our levetts[1366]
and clarions. Then the rest. We had the sowgelder there, who loud
performes the thorow-base. The dogges tooke it in turne too along the
river into Chester, and sett all the dogges there barkeing.
_Ladies._ I warrant the country people thought you mad--
(_Sir Eubule_[1367]: And well they might, by my troth!)
--or that there was an insurrection of the fanatiques.
_Fitz-ale._ My tall lads[1368] hand downe the dore, and committ it from
the cliff to the deepe. Downe, downe, it falls; but yet with severall
bounds it made as with disdaine to be at last so servd for's long and
faithfull service. Into the river Dee down dash it[1369] fell and away
towards Chester swimmes, but seemed to give a[1370] mournefull _je n'
scay quoy_
and, as sighing, seemed to say
Those that I trusted do my trust betray!
'Not Orpheus' harp did swimme more solempnely!
The Thracian dames that Orpheus did discoup,
Whose head and harpe they into Hebrus flang,
Were not with greater rage possest, then we!'
_Lady Euphrasia._ I swear, Sir John, you have made a very
poetical[1371] description of it.
_Sir J. Fitz-ale._ Ah! I steepd[1372] my muse last night in Aganippe.
_Sir Eubule Nestor._ Ah! the Justice now may well be said to keepe an
open howse.
_Sir J. Fitz-ale._ Sir Eglamour, the Justice intends to wayte on any
ladies come and dine with you. Sir Fastidious and the Captaine comes
with him; as also the bull-bayters, his old companions of the tappe;
neither witt nor learning; impudent swearers; bestiall drinkers, a
peck at a draught; hacking blades; huge colosses, with long swords,
horse-skin belts; old reformados of Charles the first; sad wretches;
old cinque-quaters; bacon[1373]-fac't fellowes; centaures that looke
as if they could not prove the Christian; downe their
beardes[1374] ... and dyed with mundungus[1375]. Now, ladies, looke to
yourselves, for every one will have a smack at your lipps with their
unsanctified mustaches.
_Ladies._ Bless us! I'le not come neer 'em, if they be such.
_Fitz-ale._ The Justice and's myrmidons are to drinke up 1000 of ale at
mother Mackerell's.
_Sir Eubule_--drinke as in the dayes of Pantagruel.
_Fitz-ale._ Plato saies perpetuall drunkennesse is the reward of virtue.
[1376]THE COUNTREY REVELL.
=Act III, scene iii.=
An alehouse bower. Enter Mris. Maquerell, Justice Wagstaffe,
Sir John Fitz-ale, Captain Exceptious Quarrellsome, Sir
Fastidious Overween, the sowgelder, and Sir Hugh the vicar,
myrmidons.
_Justice Wagstaffe._ Mother Margery, a merry revell to you! I am come
to see you according to custome.
_Margery._ I thanke your worship. You are my old guest and
acquaintance, and that does stand my friend with the excisemen.
_Sir Fastidious._ Prithee, give us a cup of the best revell ale. We are
come to drinke not less then 1000 of ale before we goe.
_Justice Wagstaffe_ (sings).
Come, fill us a 1000 jugges, etc.
_Margery_ (curtsies). Mr. Justice Wagstaffe, a good health to your
worship!
_Wagstaffe._ I thanke thee, Margery.--How doest doe Peg[CIV.]? First,
I must have a kisse. Come, let's fancy her 1/2 a crowne a piece. She's
a good-natured girle.--[They give.]
[CIV.] Peg, her mayd or daughter.
_Sir John Fitz-ale._ Sir Hugh, drink to the king's health. [Sir Hugh
takes off his glasse _super naculum_.]
_Sir J. Fitz-ale._ Bravely done, parson!--a true spunge of the Church
of England, i' faith.
_Sir Hugh._ I'm one of the old red-nosd clergy, orthodox and canonicall.
_Sir J. Fitz-ale._ You helpe solemnize the revell.
<In MS. Aubr. 21, p. 20, Aubrey jots down an anecdote for
use here 'All the parsons herabout,' in Wiltshire, 'are
alehouse-hunters. J<ames> L<ong>, esq., hunted Sir Hugh
driefoote to the alehouse with his pack of hounds to the great
griefe of the revered divine.'>