The old Christmas play of "Saint George and the Dragon" is still amongst the most popular amusements of this season, in many parts of England. Whether this particular kind of performance is to be considered as dating from the return of the Crusaders, or that similar representations had existed previously, the characters of which alone were changed by that event, does not appear from any other remains that have reached us. There is evidence, however, that plays founded upon the legend of Saint George are of a very remote date; and, in all probability, they were introduced not long after the age of the Crusades. From various contributors to Mr. Hone's "Every-Day Book," we learn that versions of these plays are still performed amongst the lower orders at the Christmas tide, in the extreme western counties of England, as also in Cumberland, and some others of the more northern ones; and one of those correspondents, dating from Falkirk, gives an account of a play still performed by the Guisars, in some parts of Scotland, which is of similar construction and evidently borrowed from the same source, but in which one Galgacus is substituted for Saint George, as the hero of the piece; and the drama is made by that substitution to commemorate the successful battle of the Grampians, by the Scots under that leader, against the invader, Agricola. If Mr. Reddock be right in this opinion, Agricola is for the nonce elevated to the title of king of Macedon. The party who carries the bag for these mummers is a very questionable trustee, being no other than Judas Iscariot. Sir Walter Scott, in his notes to "Marmion," speaks of the same play as one in which he and his companions were in the habit of taking parts, when boys; and mentions the characters of the old Scripture-plays having got mixed up with it in the version familiar to him. He enumerates Saint Peter, who carried the keys; Saint Paul, who was armed with a sword; and Judas, who had the bag for contributions; and says that he believes there was also a Saint George. It is not unlikely there might, though he is not mentioned by Mr. Reddock, for the confusion of characters in all these versions is very great. In the Whitehaven edition, Saint George is son to the king of Egypt, and the hero who carries all before him is Alexander. He conquers Saint George and kills the king of Egypt. In fact the legend, as it exists in the old romance of "Sir Bevys of Hampton," has everywhere been mixed up with extraneous matter, and scarcely any two sets of performers render it alike. The plot seems, in all, to be pretty nearly the same; and the doctor, with his marvellous cures and empirical gibberish, seems to be common to them all. "But so little," says Sandys, "do the actors know the history of their own drama, that sometimes General Wolfe is introduced, who first fights Saint George, and then sings a song about his own death. I have also seen the Duke of Wellington represented." Mr. Reddock mentions, that during the war with France one of the characters in his version "was made to say that he had been 'fighting the French,' and that the loon who took leg-bail was no less a personage than" the great Napoleon. Mr. Sandys mentions that occasionally there is a sort of anti-masque, or burlesque (if the burlesque itself can be burlesqued) at the end of the performance; when some comic characters enter, called Hub Bub, Old Squire, etc., and the piece concludes with a dance. At other times, the performances are wound up by a song.
We may mention that we have in our possession an Irish version of the same play, as it is still played by the boys in that country; in which version, as might be expected, the championship is given to Saint Patrick, who asserts that Saint George was nothing more than "Saint Patrick's boy," and fed his horses. Another of the characters in this edition of the story is Oliver Cromwell, who, after certain grandiloquent boastings (amongst others, that he had "conquered many nations with his copper nose"), calls upon no less personage than Beelzebub to step in and confirm his assertions.
The costume and accoutrements of these mummers (of whom we have given a representation at [page 65]) appear to be pretty generally of the same kind, and, for the most part, to resemble those of morris-dancers. They are thus correctly described by Mr. Sandys. Saint George and the other tragic performers wear "white trousers and waistcoats, showing their shirt-sleeves, and are much decorated with ribbons and handkerchiefs, each carrying a drawn sword in his hand, if they can be procured, otherwise a cudgel. They wear high caps of pasteboard covered with fancy paper, adorned with beads, small pieces of looking-glass, bugles, etc., several long strips of pith generally hanging down from the top, with shreds of different colored cloth strung on them, the whole having a fanciful and smart effect. The Turk sometimes has a turban. Father Christmas is personified as a grotesque old man, wearing a large mask and wig, with a huge club in his hand. The doctor, who is sort of merry-andrew to the piece, is dressed in some ridiculous way, with a three-cornered hat and painted face. The female when there is one, is in the costume of her great-grandmother. The hobby-horse, when introduced, has a sort of representation of a horse's hide; but the dragon and the giant, when there is one, frequently appear with the same style of dress as the knights."
We will present our readers with the version of this old drama given by Mr. Sandys, as still performed in Cornwall. Elsewhere, we have met with some slight variations upon even this Cornwall piece, but will be content to print it as we find it in the collection in question. Our Lancashire readers will at once recognize its close resemblance to the play performed in that county, about the time of Easter, by the Peace-eggers, or Paste-eggers, of whom we shall speak, in their proper place, in a future volume.
Enter the Turkish Knight.
Open your doors and let me in,
I hope your favors I shall win;
Whether I rise or whether I fall
I'll do my best to please you all.
Saint George is here, and swears he will come in,
And if he does, I know he'll pierce my skin.
If you will not believe what I do say,
Let Father Christmas come in,—clear the way!
[Retires.
Enter Father Christmas.
Here come I, old Father Christmas,
Welcome, or welcome not,
I hope old Father Christmas
Will never be forgot.
I am not come here to laugh or to jeer,
But for a pocketful of money and a skinful of beer.
If you will not believe what I do say,
Come in the King of Egypt,—clear the way!
Enter the King of Egypt.
Here I, the King of Egypt, boldly do appear,
Saint George! Saint George! walk in, my only son and heir.
Walk in, my son, Saint George! and boldly act thy part,
That all the people here may see thy wond'rous art.