I’m finally back in London, back on the boat, and settling in to 2020. But there was one last festive event to attend before the first Monday morning of the new year: Twelfth Night!
As any fule kno, Twelfth Night occurs twelve days after Christmas and the day before Epiphany (the day on which the Magi visited the Christ Child). These two days are traditionally seen as the end of the Christmas season and many people take them as a cue to pack up the Christmas tree and get on with the drudgery of January. I took them as a cue to shake off the jet-lag of the previous day’s red-eye flight and accept Piran’s invitation to breakfast and a Twelfth Night celebration at Bankside, which promised to include wassailing, a Green Man, twelfth cake, mummery and a good old fashioned farandole. I mean how could you not?
First things first: wassailing has nothing to do with sailing. Wassail is a hot mulled cider drink whose name derives from the Old English “was hál” meaning “be hale”. Which is a lot like the Russian drinking salute "На здоровье!” meaning “to health”. (Also used in French, German, Italian, Greek, Irish, Spanish, Welsh... I could go on). It’s a toast! Which is funny because wassail is traditionally served with slices of toast floating in it and sipped from a big communal drinking vessel called a wassail bowl. Hence, the lyrics to the carol:
It’s all very folky and earthy, which brings us to the next component: the Green Man. He's frequently seen as carved stone decoration in churches and secular buildings and normally depicted as a face completely covered in or made from leaves. It seems like it must be some kind of ancient folklore so I was surprised to discover that this centuries-old architectural motif wasn’t even named “The Green Man” until 1939. Since that time the Green Man has been adopted as a counter-culture symbol of nature, rebirth, and the cycle of the seasons, which is how we found him on Twelfth Night, in his winter form as the Holly Man. (The Green Man is also a very popular pub name, with at least seven Green Mans in the Greater London area.)
This is where Piran and I joined the crowd on Sunday morning, having enjoyed a very piggy breakfast which included three kinds of pig-derived yumminess and walked through the city to catch up with the revelry just as the Holly Man and his gang (including a piper!) were starting across the bridge at St. Paul's. The Holly Man himself is portrayed by David Risley, who dons the green every year, re-making the living bits every time. (I know this because of course the Green Man has a facebook page. Also: Piran told me.) His makeup was particularly impressive, as you’ll see later.
The Bankside Twelfth Night celebrations are led each year by a group of performers called the Lions Part, who also do an autumnally themed thing in October. We followed the Holly Man & Co. across the bridge to the riverbank near the Globe Theatre, where they were met by the other half of the company who’d paraded over from the George Inn (more on the George later).
After everyone arrived the group proceeded to wassail the boats on the river and the Globe Theatre, with the support and encouragement of the actual Mayor of Southwark, who appeared in full ceremonial robes. Luckily I’d bought a program so could recite along with the wassailing toast before the whole company moved a bit further east to get ready for the Mummers' Play.
Mummers' plays date from around mid to late 18th century and are traditional folk tales a bit like early pantos with a stock cast of characters that normally include the hero Saint George (or King George in our case, or Prince George... you get the idea) and a baddie called the Turkish Knight. These two fight to the death but then the vanquished character is brought back to life by the Doctor, who revives the casualty through odd and comic means, thus symbolically reawakening the earth from the dead of winter. Other characters also come into the play including Cleverlegs, a minstrel; Father Christmas; Beelzebub, who gives a topical monologue; and Jill Finney (modern gender-reversed version of the role) who exhorts cash donations from the crowd at the end of the performance. (I took a bunch of photos of the performance, but the sightline was awful so there’s no use posting them here.)
(Side note particularly for Far Eastern Canadians: Mummers and Mummers’ plays are obviously related to the old Newfoundland practise of mummering, wherein jolly gangs of mummers dress up in outrageous disguises which seem to require wearing extra-large undergarments outside your clothing. Mummers visit their neighbours houses where they sing, dance, tell jokes and do all manner of informal performance until the people in the house correctly guess their identities. The hosts are also expected to provide food and drink, and the whole thing sounds quite jolly. Oh, and these days there’s an annual parade!)
The final part of our Twelfth Night mummers' performance was the crowning of the Twelfth Night royalty: King Bean and Queen Pea. Small cakes - Twelfth Bakes - were given out to everyone in the crowd, and whoever got the pea and bean would be assigned the royal role. It's a bit like finding the sixpence in the Christmas Pudding but instead of conferring good luck, you get to be king for a day. The French do the same thing for Epiphany with King Cake.)
With the royalty crowned it was time to move on, but to where? The pub, of course! The whole crowd was exhorted to join the mummers in a farandole all the way from the Globe Theatre to the George Inn on Borough High Street.
A farandole is a folk dance originating in France and in our case involved making a very very long moving human chain all the way to the pub, led by two of the mummers. Of course Piran and I joined in behind the Turkish Knight, who led a merry way through Southwark and Borough Market, winding and bending as much as possible and necessitating a few cries of “Mind the bollards!” as each obstacle was encountered. The line started out quite short, though it did include a guy who’d arrived on his Brompton. Rather than miss out, he simply hung onto the handlebars of his folded bike, and the next person in the line hung onto the seat. I thought this was quite clever since Bromptons can get tiring to carry on your own.
Of course I’ve got no photos of the farandole because both my hands were occupied the whole time. But it was quite fun, despite the awkward rotation of the shoulder that was required to stay connected with the woman behind me. The path to the pub was about half a mile long - not a short distance to travel without breaking the chain, especially with more and more people joining along the route. We also had to cross Borough High Street, a major thoroughfare. Luckily, mummer volunteers in rags and hi-vis vests were along to stop traffic, though by the time we at the front of the line were at the pub, the tail was still on the other side of the road at least 350 feet away. I’ve no idea how they managed to hold back the traffic for that long but one of the mummers was very excited because apparently this was the first year they’ve got all the way to the pub without breaking the chain! Surely this bodes well for 2020.
When we arrived the yard was rammed already and the bar was worse, so I left Piran to help wassail the George Inn while I fetched the beer. The Lions Part gang did some singing and I heard there was storytelling in the Snug, though we did not partake. Mostly we just hung out in the yard catching up and grabbing photos with the mummers when we could.
Night fell, and I polished off a pint of George ale and a cup of some kind of mulled cider which I suppose was basically wassail (not including toast) but was mostly nice because it was very warm and did not include toast. The festivities wound down slowly and eventually we left for the walk to the station, having seen off the festive season in proper fashion.
Wassail, Astute Go Stay Work Play Live Readers!
And Happy 2020.
As any fule kno, Twelfth Night occurs twelve days after Christmas and the day before Epiphany (the day on which the Magi visited the Christ Child). These two days are traditionally seen as the end of the Christmas season and many people take them as a cue to pack up the Christmas tree and get on with the drudgery of January. I took them as a cue to shake off the jet-lag of the previous day’s red-eye flight and accept Piran’s invitation to breakfast and a Twelfth Night celebration at Bankside, which promised to include wassailing, a Green Man, twelfth cake, mummery and a good old fashioned farandole. I mean how could you not?
First things first: wassailing has nothing to do with sailing. Wassail is a hot mulled cider drink whose name derives from the Old English “was hál” meaning “be hale”. Which is a lot like the Russian drinking salute "На здоровье!” meaning “to health”. (Also used in French, German, Italian, Greek, Irish, Spanish, Welsh... I could go on). It’s a toast! Which is funny because wassail is traditionally served with slices of toast floating in it and sipped from a big communal drinking vessel called a wassail bowl. Hence, the lyrics to the carol:
Wassail is integral to the practice of wassailing, which comes in two forms. The first is very similar to carolling, involving going door-to-door singing and offering drinks from the wassail bowl (hence the lyrics of the song). The second, and more appropriate to my Twelfth Night festivities, is particular to apple and cider producing areas of England and involves visiting the local orchards on Twelfth Night, to drink and sing to the health of the cider apple trees and ensure a good harvest the next year. Often the soggy wassail toast is placed is the branches of the trees by the Wassail Queen (more on her later) as a gift to the tree spirits."Wassail! wassail! all over the town,Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown;Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree;With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink unto thee."
It’s all very folky and earthy, which brings us to the next component: the Green Man. He's frequently seen as carved stone decoration in churches and secular buildings and normally depicted as a face completely covered in or made from leaves. It seems like it must be some kind of ancient folklore so I was surprised to discover that this centuries-old architectural motif wasn’t even named “The Green Man” until 1939. Since that time the Green Man has been adopted as a counter-culture symbol of nature, rebirth, and the cycle of the seasons, which is how we found him on Twelfth Night, in his winter form as the Holly Man. (The Green Man is also a very popular pub name, with at least seven Green Mans in the Greater London area.)
The Holly Man and his supporters, crossing the Thames on the Millennium Bridge.
The Bankside Twelfth Night celebrations are led each year by a group of performers called the Lions Part, who also do an autumnally themed thing in October. We followed the Holly Man & Co. across the bridge to the riverbank near the Globe Theatre, where they were met by the other half of the company who’d paraded over from the George Inn (more on the George later).
More mummers arriving in thier distinctive costumes completely covered in multicoloured rags. They’re thought to originate with Mummers’ humble roots when poor performers would turn their only coat inside out and decorate the lining with cheap strips of discarded cloth.
Mummers' plays date from around mid to late 18th century and are traditional folk tales a bit like early pantos with a stock cast of characters that normally include the hero Saint George (or King George in our case, or Prince George... you get the idea) and a baddie called the Turkish Knight. These two fight to the death but then the vanquished character is brought back to life by the Doctor, who revives the casualty through odd and comic means, thus symbolically reawakening the earth from the dead of winter. Other characters also come into the play including Cleverlegs, a minstrel; Father Christmas; Beelzebub, who gives a topical monologue; and Jill Finney (modern gender-reversed version of the role) who exhorts cash donations from the crowd at the end of the performance. (I took a bunch of photos of the performance, but the sightline was awful so there’s no use posting them here.)
(Side note particularly for Far Eastern Canadians: Mummers and Mummers’ plays are obviously related to the old Newfoundland practise of mummering, wherein jolly gangs of mummers dress up in outrageous disguises which seem to require wearing extra-large undergarments outside your clothing. Mummers visit their neighbours houses where they sing, dance, tell jokes and do all manner of informal performance until the people in the house correctly guess their identities. The hosts are also expected to provide food and drink, and the whole thing sounds quite jolly. Oh, and these days there’s an annual parade!)
The final part of our Twelfth Night mummers' performance was the crowning of the Twelfth Night royalty: King Bean and Queen Pea. Small cakes - Twelfth Bakes - were given out to everyone in the crowd, and whoever got the pea and bean would be assigned the royal role. It's a bit like finding the sixpence in the Christmas Pudding but instead of conferring good luck, you get to be king for a day. The French do the same thing for Epiphany with King Cake.)
Handing out Twelfth Bakes.
So hopeful. Sadly, neither of us were crowned. The lucky two got to wear rustic handmade crowns. It’s thought that the simple paper crowns and other regalia once made for Twelfth Night royalty are the origins of the paper hats we now get in Christmas crackers.
A farandole is a folk dance originating in France and in our case involved making a very very long moving human chain all the way to the pub, led by two of the mummers. Of course Piran and I joined in behind the Turkish Knight, who led a merry way through Southwark and Borough Market, winding and bending as much as possible and necessitating a few cries of “Mind the bollards!” as each obstacle was encountered. The line started out quite short, though it did include a guy who’d arrived on his Brompton. Rather than miss out, he simply hung onto the handlebars of his folded bike, and the next person in the line hung onto the seat. I thought this was quite clever since Bromptons can get tiring to carry on your own.
Of course I’ve got no photos of the farandole because both my hands were occupied the whole time. But it was quite fun, despite the awkward rotation of the shoulder that was required to stay connected with the woman behind me. The path to the pub was about half a mile long - not a short distance to travel without breaking the chain, especially with more and more people joining along the route. We also had to cross Borough High Street, a major thoroughfare. Luckily, mummer volunteers in rags and hi-vis vests were along to stop traffic, though by the time we at the front of the line were at the pub, the tail was still on the other side of the road at least 350 feet away. I’ve no idea how they managed to hold back the traffic for that long but one of the mummers was very excited because apparently this was the first year they’ve got all the way to the pub without breaking the chain! Surely this bodes well for 2020.
And now finally: The George Inn!
It’s a fantastic pub, and one I’ve been to many times. The last remaining galleried coaching inn in London, there’s been a pub on the site since the late 1500s! The inside is a rambling collection of cozy small rooms, but the big feature is the outside courtyard, especially lovely in summer. Sadly they no longer rent rooms so it's a bit of a stretch to call it an Inn, but I suppose when you've been around for 450-ish years you get a bit of leeway.
The galleried bit of “galleried inn”. (Neither of us got a decent photo of the yard so this one is from Wikimedia: By Ewan Munro from London, UK - George, Borough, SE1, CC BY-SA 2.0)
See what I mean about his makeup?
Wassail, Astute Go Stay Work Play Live Readers!
And Happy 2020.
2 Comments:
Pam: Great post!! I visited this area with my friends in September and so can picture many of the locations you described. Great way to start your new year. Also enjoyed your story of toad in the hole. Broccoli? Just had to add some green, eh? Be well, ck
I am very excited to learn about the origins of the paper hats in Christmas crackers!
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