Volume 1 — MEMOIR ON THE STUDY OF CHILDREN’S GAMES (continued 2)

The passing under the arch in this game is not absolutely necessary in order that the players may exercise their choice of leaders, nor is the “secrecy” which is observed necessary either. Even this may have its origin in custom. It may signify the compulsory attendance of a vassal under pain of punishment to serve one side, or the taking prisoner and condemning to death for serving on the opponents’ or losing side. An idea is current that it represents cutting off the last person’s head, the last of the string or line of players, and in some places the last one in the line is always caught instead of one whom the leaders choose to enclose in their arms. Of course a “laggard” or late arrival would be liable to suspicion and punishment, and this idea may be suggested in the game; but I do not think that the game originates from the idea of catching a “last” player. The passing under the arch can also be attributed to the custom of compelling prisoners to pass under a yoke to signify servitude, and the threat of execution would follow attempt to escape or disobedience. Again, prisoners were offered life and freedom on condition of joining the army of their opponents.

The other games of this method of play, “Three Days’ Holiday,” and “Tug of War,” are the same game under other names, with only a nominy surviving, and the method of play. Several games entered under the title of “Through the Needle Eye,” are really the “arch” type with the “tug,” that is the “Oranges and Lemons” game, instead of belonging to the “Thread the Needle” or first form of arch type, as they are usually considered. The Scottish form, described by Jamieson (ii. p. 290), is an exception which should have been included with “Thread the Needle,” to which group it belongs. The other games, “Through the Needle Eye,” have lost a portion of their play, which probably accounts for the mixture of name with the “Thread the Needle” games, because of both containing the arch form. “Namers and Guessers,” “Fool, Fool, come to School,” “Little Dog, I call you,” practically versions of one and the same game, which I have classed in this type because of the “tug,” have an additional element of guessing in them. The leader or namer on one side and the guesser on the other take sides. All the players have names given them, and it is the first business of the guesser to guess which of the players has taken a particular name. If he guesses correctly, he takes that player on his side; if incorrectly, he stays on the namer’s side. After he has “guessed” at all the players, the “tug” follows, and the beaten side has further to run the gauntlet between two lines of the successful side. This game, having all its players chosen by guessing, by what might have been originally choosing by “lot” or by magical powers, may have an entirely different meaning, but it is clearly a contest game, although there is no indication as to the why or wherefore. The punishment of “running the gauntlet” is found in the game, which again indicates military fighting.

This group of games, though small, is perhaps one of the most indicative of early custom, for beyond the custom which is enshrined in each game—foundation sacrifice, well worship, &c.—it will be noticed there is a common custom belonging to all the games of this group; this is the procession under the arch. The fact that this common custom can also be referred to primitive usage, confirms my view that the particular customs in each game owe their origin to primitive usage. Mr. W. Crooke has very kindly supplied me with some notes on this interesting subject, and I gladly avail myself of his research:—

“In Cairo, women walk under the stone on which criminals are decapitated, in the hope of curing ophthalmia and getting children. They must go in silence, and left foot foremost.”—Lane, Modern Egyptians, i. p. 325; Hartland, Perseus, i. p. 163.

“Rheumatism and lumbago cured by crawling under granitic masses in Cornwall.”—Hunt, Popular Romances, p. 177.

“Passing children under bramble to cure rupture.”—Ibid., pp. 412, 415.

“This cures chincough.”—Aubrey, Remains, p. 187.

“In Scotland, sick children are passed through the great stones of Odin at Stennis, and through a perforated monolith at Burkham, in Yorkshire.”—Rogers, Social Life in Scotland, i. p. 13.

“Barren women pass their hands through the holes of the Bore Stone at Gask in order to obtain children.”—Ibid., iii. p. 227.

“Similar rites prevail in Cyprus.”—Hogarth, Devia Cypria, p. 48; Gardner, New Chapters in Greek History, p. 172.

“This again gives rise to the use of the gateway through which pilgrims pass to temples. Such are the Indian Torana, in this shape, which are represented by the Torio, so common in Japan.

“The Greeks had the same, which they called Dokana (δὁκανα, from δοκὁϛ, ‘a beam’). With them they represented the Dioscuri—Castor and Pollux. They are described by Plutarch.”—De Amor. Fratr., i. p. 36.

“Similar arches, covered with charms, were seen at Dahomi by Burton.”—Mission to Gelele, i. pp. 218, 286.

“Women in England creep under a gallows to get children.” (I have mislaid the reference.)

“There are many ‘creeps’ or narrow holes in Irish dolmens certainly used by people, who had to creep in to worship the ghost or bring offerings. Captives intended to be slaughtered had to creep through such places.”—Borlase, Dolmens of Ireland, ii. p. 554.

“Barren women pass their hands through such holes.”—Ibid., ii. p. 650.

“A good picture of such a stone from France.”—Ibid., ii. pp. 626, 700, 702, 707.

Mr. Albany F. Major has also kindly drawn my attention to the following interesting passages from the sagas, which Dr. Jon Stefansson has kindly translated as follows:—

“In old times this had been the custom of brave men, who made an agreement (pact) that the one who lived the longest should revenge the other’s death. They were to go under three earth-sods, and that was their oath (eiðr). This ceremony (leikr) of theirs was in this wise, that three long earth-sods (turfs) should be cut loose. All the ends were to be fast in the ground (adhere to it), but the coils (bends) were to be pulled upward, so that a man might go under them. This play Thorgeir and Thormod went through.”—Fóstbrædra Saga, ed. 1822, ch. i. p. 7.

“Now is spread about this report of Thorkell and his men, but Gudmund had before told [the story] somewhat otherwise. Now that tale seemed to those kinsmen of Thorarins somewhat doubtful, and they said they would not put trust in it without proof, and they claimed for themselves [to share] half the property with Thorkell, but Thorkell thought to own it himself alone, and bade go to ordeal after their custom. This was then the [form of] ordeal at that time, that they should go under an earth-belt, that is, a sod [which] was ripped up from the field. The ends of the sod must be fast in the field, but the man who was to perform the ordeal must go thereunder. Thorkell of the Scarf somewhat suspects whether the death of those men can have happened in the way that Gudmund and his men had said the latter time. Now, heathen men thought that they had no less at stake, when they had to play such a part, than Christian men think nowadays when ordeals are held. Then the man who went under the earth-belt was clear if the sod fell not on him. Thorkell took counsel with two men that they should let themselves fall out about something or other, and be there standing near at hand when the ordeal was being performed, and should touch the sod so hard that all might see that they brought it down. After this the man who was to perform the ordeal starts, and as soon as he was come under the earth-belt those men who were set to do it sprang to meet each other under arms, and they encounter near the bend of the sod and lie fallen there, and the earth-belt fell down, as was to be expected. At once men spring between them and separate them; that was easy, because they were fighting with no risk to life. Thorkell of the Scarf asked what people thought of the ordeal; now all his men say that it would have done well if no one had spoilt it. Then Thorkell took all the loose property, but the land is joined on to Hrappstead.”—Laxdæla Saga, ch. xviii.

“Berg gave notice of the blow for the Hunawaterthing and began the lawsuit there. As soon as men came to the thing they tried to arrange a settlement. Berg said that he would not take payment in atonement, and would only be reconciled under these terms, that Jokull should go under three earth-belts, as was then the custom after great transgressions, ‘and thus show humility towards me.’ Jokull said the trolls should take him before he thus bowed himself. Thorstein said it was a matter for consideration, ‘and I will go under the earth-belts.’ Berg said then would the matter be paid for. The first earth-belt reached to the shoulder, the next to the waist-belt, the third to mid-thigh. Then Thorstein went under the first. Then said Berg: ‘Now I make thee stoop like a swine, who wast the loftiest of the Vatnsdale men.’ Thorstein answers, ‘That hadst thou no need to say, but this will be the first return for those words, that I will not go under any more.’ Finnbogi said, ‘That is clearly not well said, but then not much comes in repayment for Berg’s wrong, that he gat from Jokull, if the matter shall here come to a standstill, and everything seems to you lowly by the side of you Vatnsdale men, and I will challenge thee, Thorstein, to holm-gang a week hence by the stackyard which stands on the island down before my farm at Borg.’”—Vatnsdæla Saga, ch. xxxiii.

These significant customs, I think, bear out my theory as to the origin of the games played in the two methods of the arch form.

Lastly, I come to the “winding up” games. “Eller Tree” (i. p. 119) and “Wind up the Bush Faggot” (ii. pp. 384-387), show a game in which a tree or bush is represented, and is probably indicative of tree worship. The tallest player represents the tree, and all the other players walk round and round in line form, getting closer and closer each time, until all are wound round the centre player. They call out when winding round “The old tree gets thicker and thicker,” and then jump all together, calling out “A bunch of rags,” and try and tread on each other’s toes. This last action is evidently performed from not understanding the action of stamping, which is, without doubt, the object of the players. It is probable that this game descends from the custom of encircling the tree (Mr. Addy suggests the alder-tree) as an act of worship, and the allusion to the “rags” bears at least a curious relationship to hanging rags on sacred trees. A ceremonial of this kind would probably take place each spring, and the stamping on the ground would be, as in “Oats and Beans and Barley,” a part of the ceremony to awake and arouse the earth spirit to the necessity of his care for the trees under his charge. The connection of all the players, by means of the clasped hands, with the central figure or tree, may also be considered a means of communicating life and action to it; the tree requiring contact with living and moving creatures to enable it to put forth its leaves. In a version of this game from Lincoln, called the “Old Oak Tree” (ii. p. 386), we find practically the same words and same actions, the dancing round and jumping up and down are constant features of this game. It remains in some degenerate versions from Scotland (ibid.), where the game has assumed the modern name of “Rolling Tobacco.” In “Wind up the Bush Faggot” we have again the tree or bush suggested, and the dancing and jumping, or stamping up and down. In Shropshire it is the closing game of any playtime, and was played before “breaking-up” at a boys’ school in Shrewsbury in 1850-1856. This tends to show that the game had originally been played at a special time or season.

For an example of this custom I may repeat (from ii. p. 386) that in mid-Cornwall, in the second week in June, at St. Roche and one or two adjacent parishes, a curious dance, like a serpent’s coil, is performed at the annual “feasts.” The young people are assembled in a meadow, and the band plays a lively tune. The band leads, and all the people follow hand in hand. The band or head keeps marching in an ever-narrowing circle, while its train of dancing followers becomes coiled round it in circle after circle. Then the band, taking a sharp turn about, begins to retrace the circle, still followed as before, and a number of young men, with long leafy branches in their hands as standards, direct this counter-movement. Although there is no mention of a tree in the account round which this ceremony is performed, the custom is so striking as to leave very little doubt of their connection. Lady Wilde (Ancient Cures, Charms, and Usages of Ireland, p. 106) says, “On May-Day in Ireland all the young men and maidens hold hands, and dance in a circle round a tree hung with ribbons or garlands, or round a bonfire, moving in curves from left to right, as if imitating the windings of a serpent.” This is a closer parallel to the game still, and leaves no doubt as to its connection with custom. There may be, too, some connection between these winding-up or serpentine dances and the Maypole dances on May-Day in England.

The detail into which I have gone in the case of these games makes it, I think, unnecessary that I should enter into equal detail in other customs mentioned in the classification. Thus, with regard to the funeral customs indicated in “Jenny Jones,” we have not only a ceremony of burial, but the courting of a maiden or maidens by a band of suitors, the opposition of the mother or guardians to their suit, the putting forward of domestic occupations as pretexts for refusal; there is also the illness, dying and death of the maiden, the manner of her funeral indicated by the colour selected for her burial, followed by the burial itself, the singing of the lament or funeral dirge, and, in some versions, the rising of the ghost or spirit of the departed. This game in its best versions is played in line form. But in those versions where two children only play the parts of “mother” and “Jenny Jones,” there is also evidence of the tendency of the game to develop into the individual form.

Again, those games in which “guessing” occurs remind us of the important part that guessing or chance plays in the beliefs of the savage and uncivilised. A person who, by a guess, discovers a special person out of a number, or the exact number of articles concealed in a hand or under a foot, has something of the supernatural or witch-element about him. This is largely the foundation of the belief in witchcraft and the sorcerer. It is not surprising to find, therefore, the guessing-element largely extant in the dramatic game. The “guesser” is usually chosen by lot by means of the counting-out rhyme; the leader then proceeds to confuse the guesser’s or witch’s mind by re-naming secretly the rest of the players. He calls the “guesser,” and in a doggerel rhyme (the remains or imitation probably of an incantation), tells him to pick out or name a certain person or thing. If the guess is correct, the “guesser” takes that person to his side, indicating power over that individual or thing. If the “guesser” is unsuccessful, he is scouted, mocked, and ill-used.

I now proceed with the second classification referred to on p. 461. Of the games classified on pp. 461-470, ante, it will be found on examination that nearly all of them are dramatic in form. This leads me at once to suggest that so important a phase of their character needs separate investigation, and this I proceed to do.

In the first place, it will be found that certain of the games are wholly dramatic whatever may be the customs or rites they imitate. These games are of two classes—first, where dramatic action is complete throughout the whole game, that is where singing, action, and words are represented; secondly, where singing has dropped out, action and words only remaining.

These two classes are as follows:—

DRAMATIC GAMES.

(1) Singing (containing words, tune, action).

All the Boys.

Babbity Bowster.

Booman.

Curly Locks.

Cushion Dance.

Dillsie, Dollsie Dee.

Down in the Valley.

Down in yonder Meadow.

Galley, Galley, Ship.

Glasgow Ships.

Green Grass.

Green Gravel.

Hark the Robbers.

Hear all! let me at her.

Here comes a Lusty Wooer.

Here comes a Virgin.

Here I sit on a Cold Green Bank.

Here’s a Soldier.

Here stands a Young Man.

Hey Wullie Wine.

Isabella.

Jenny Jones.

Jolly Fishermen.

Jolly Hooper.

Jolly Miller.

Jolly Rover.

Jolly Sailors.

Keys of Heaven.

King William.

Kiss in the Ring.

Knocked at the Rapper.

Lady of the Land.

Lady on the Mountain.

London Bridge.

Mary Brown.

Mary mixed a Pudding.

Merry-ma-tansa.

Milking Pails.

Mulberry Bush.

Needle Cases.

Nettles Grow.

Nuts in May.

Oats and Beans.

Old Dame.

Old Roger.

Oliver, Oliver, follow the King.

Oranges and Lemons.

Poor Mary sits a-weepin’.

Poor Widow.

Pray, pretty Miss.

Pretty little Girl.

Queen Anne.

Queen Mary.

Ring me Rary.

Rosy Apple.

Round and Round the Village.

Sally Water.

Salmon Fishers.

Silly Old Man.

Soldier.

Soldiers.

Three Dukes.

Three Knights.

Three Old Bachelors.

Three Sailors.

Wallflowers.

We are the Rovers.

When I was a Young Girl.

Widow.

Wind.

Would you know how doth the Peasant?

(2) Dialogue and Action (no singing).

Auld Grannie.

Barbarie, King of the.

Chickens, come clock.

Deil amo’ the Dishes.

Doagan.

Draw a Pail of Water.

Dumb Motions.

Eller Tree.

Fox and Geese.

Ghost at the Well.

Giddy.

Gipsy.

Gled-Wylie.

Hen and Chickens.

Honey Pots.

How many Miles to Babylon.

Jack, Jack, the Bread’s a-burning.

Keeling the Pot.

King of Barbarie.

King of the Castle.

Lady on yonder Hill.

Lend me your Key.

Mother, may I go out?

Mother Mop.

Mother, Mother, the Pot boils over.

Mouse and Cobbler.

Namers and Guessers.

Old Cranny Crow.

Old Dame.

Rashes.

Shepherds and Sheep.

Steal the Pigs.

Thread the Needle.

Three Jolly Welshmen.

Tower of London.

Trades.

Who goes round my Stone Wall?

Willie Wastell.

Witch.

Wolf.

Nearly all the remaining dramatic games form a third class, namely, those where action remains, and where both words and singing are either non-existent or have been reduced to the merest fragments.

In order to complete the investigation from the point we have now reached, it is necessary to inquire what is the controlling force which has preserved ancient custom in the form of children’s games. The mere telling of a game or tale from a parent to a child, or from one child to another, is not alone sufficient. There must be some strong force inherent in these games that has allowed them to be continued from generation to generation, a force potent enough to almost compel their continuance and to prevent their decay. This force must have been as strong or stronger than the customs which first brought the games into existence, and I identify it as the dramatic faculty inherent in mankind.

A necessary part of this proposition is, that the element of the dramatic in children’s games is more ancient than, or at all events as ancient as, the customs enshrined in the games themselves, and I will first of all see if this is so.

With the child the capacity to express itself in words is small and limited. The child does not apparently pay as much attention to the language of those adults by whom he is surrounded as he does to their actions, and the more limited his vocabulary, the greater are his attempts at expressing his thoughts by action. Language to him means so little unless accompanied by action. It is too cold for a child. Every one acquainted with children will be aware of their dramatic way of describing to their mother or nurse the way in which they have received a hurt through falling down the stairs or out of doors, or from knocking their heads against articles of furniture. A child even, whose command of language is fairly good, will usually not be content to say, “Oh, mother, I fell down and knocked my head against the table,” but will say, “Oh, I fell down like this” (suiting the action to the word by throwing himself down); “I knocked my head like this” (again suiting the action to the word by knocking the head against the table), and does not understand that you can comprehend how he got hurt by merely saying so. He feels it necessary to show you. Elders must respond in action as well as in words to be understood by children. If “you kiss the place to make it well,” and if you bind up a cut or sore, something has been done that can be seen and felt, and this the child believes in as a means of healing. A child understands you are sorry he has been hurt, much more readily than if you say or repeat that you are sorry; the words pass almost unheeded, the action is remembered.

Every one, too, must have noticed the observation of detail a child will show in personifying a particular person. When a little child wishes to personate his father, for instance, he will seat himself in the father’s chair, cross his legs, pick up a piece of paper and pretend to read, or stroke an imaginary beard or moustache, put on glasses, frown, or give a little cough, and say, “Now I’m father,” if the father is in the habit of indulging in either of the above habits, and it will be found that sitting in the chair (if a special chair is used by the father to sit in when at home) is the foundation and most important part of the imitation. Other men of the child’s acquaintance read papers, smoke, wear glasses, &c., but father sits in that chair; therefore to be father, sitting in the chair is absolutely necessary, and is sufficient of itself to indicate to others that “father” is being personified, and not another person. To be “mother” a child will pretend to pour out tea, or sew, or do some act of household work, the doing of which is associated with “mother,” while a lady visitor or a relative would be indicated by wearing hat or bonnet or silk dress, carrying a parasol, saying, “How do you do?” and carrying on conversation. Again, too, it is noticeable how a child realises a hurt if blood and swelling ensues after a knock. This is something that can be seen and shown.

When wishing to be an animal, a child fixes at once on some characteristic of that animal which is special to it, and separates it from other animals similar in other ways. Children never personate horses and cows, for instance, in the same manner. Horses toss their heads, shake their manes, paw the ground, prance, and are restless when standing still, gallop and trot, wear harness, and their drivers have reins and a whip. When a child is a cow he does none of these things; he walks in a slower, heavier way, lowers the head, and stares about as he moves his head from side to side, lies down on the ground and munches; he has horns, and rubs these against a tree or a fence.

A child of mine, when told that he must not run in the gutter when out of doors, because that was not the place for little boys, replied, “I am not a little boy now, I am a dog, so I may run in the gutter.” When he came into the path again he became a boy.

Again the same child, when called by his name and told to come out from under a table, a round one, under which he was lying rubbing his head against the pedestal centre, because under the table was not the place for little boys, said, “But I’m not [ ], I’m a cow, and it’s not a table, it’s a tree, and I’m rubbing my horns.”

Again, when personating a train, the actions used are completely different from those used when personating an animal. The child moves at a steady rate, the feet progressing without raising the legs more than necessary, because engines only have wheels, which keep close to the ground; they don’t jump up like feet do, the arms are used as the propeller, and the puffing and screeching, letting off steam, taking in water, are imitated in sound to perfection. This is entirely on the child’s own initiative. When children play in groups the same things occur. Instances could be given ad nauseam. It cannot, therefore, surprise us that in these games children should be found to use actions which indicate to them certain persons or things, although the words they use may render action unnecessary, as action is to them most important. Children, when acting these games or dramas, appear not to need the element of dress or of particular garments to indicate their adoption of certain characters or characteristics. To display your heels and look down at them while doing so signifies a man who wears spurs, a knight; to prance along as if a horse, shows a man on horseback, a duke a-riding. A child lies or stoops down and shuts her eyes, she is dead; if she is passively carried by two others a little distance, she is going to be buried. The child, by standing still, becomes a tree, a house, or a stone wall. If an animal is required to be shown, down goes the child on hands and knees, bends her head down, and the animal is there. If a gate, fortress, or castle is wanted, two children join hands, and their arms are raised or lowered when required for opening the gate, &c. If one child is to personate a “mother,” one or two or more smaller children are placed behind or beside her as her children, because “mothers have children,” and so on. Many other examples could be given from these games of the same kind of thing. There is, then, no difficulty as to the reason why children should have continued playing at these games when once they had seen their elders play them or similar performances, nor why children should not have embodied in a game or play some of the manners and customs which were constantly going on around them in olden times as they do now, imitating the habits and customs of the men and women and animals by whom they were surrounded.

We know from the evidence of those who have collected the games that many were played as amusements by young men and women up to a few years ago. Some are still so played, and some years further back it was a general practice for men and women in country districts to play these or similar games at fairs and festivals; it is unlikely that adults would play seriously at children’s games, but children having seen their elders playing at these amusements would adopt them and use them in their turn, until these amusements become in turn too frivolous and childish for them. It is not so very many years since that the then educated or cultured classes amused themselves by occupations now deemed silly and unfit even for children of the uneducated class—witness practical joking, cock-fighting, &c.

The natural instinct to dramatic action in children is paralleled by the same instinct in grown-up people when in a state of culture where they are chiefly dependent upon their natural capacities for existence. Thus evidence of the natural dramatic power in savages and in semi-civilised races is abundant. The dances of savages are strongly dramatic. They advance in lines dancing, gesticulating, and singing, while others sit and look on; they dance in circles joining hands, they go down on all fours imitating animal postures and noises, they wear masks, special dresses and ornaments, and these have significance for their audience. Some of these dances are peculiar to and only witnessed by men, others performed by men are witnessed by both sexes. These ceremonial dances are performed principally at the celebration of the initiative rites, but some also represent other customs periodically performed.

Catlin’s (North American Indians) description of the Buffalo dance among the Mandan Indians shows the dancers wearing masks made of a buffalo’s head and horns, and a tail hanging down behind. The dancers went through the actions of hunting, being shot with bow and arrow, skinned and cut up, accompanied by singing and yelling. This dance was performed as a ceremony when food was required and the hunters were at a loss, and would continue until a herd of buffalos came in sight on the prairie.

Mr. W. E. Roth gives dances accompanied by songs and pantomimic action and games practised by the N.W. Central Australian aborigines.[21]

In “Secular and Ceremonial Dances of Torres Straits” (Zeit. für Ethnogr., vi. 1893, p. 131), Dr. Haddon describes a “saw-fish dance” performed by natives. He says “the advent of different seasons of the year is celebrated by ceremonies amongst most peoples; the most frequent of these are harvest festivals, or periods of rejoicings at the abundance of food. Very frequent also are ceremonies which relate to the preparing for crops or the inauguration of a season which promises abundant food supply. The saw-fish dance belongs to the latter class.” Dr. Haddon visited the men, and saw the making of the masks which he describes at length. These were worn by the dancers, and consisted of an imitation of a human face resting on a crocodile’s head, and surmounted by a figure of a saw-fish represented in a traditional method. The dance, which lasted for hours, was accompanied by singing a chant, the words of which served as a description of the meaning of the dance. This dance is performed to ensure a good harvest from the sea.

He also refers to dramatic death dances and war dances, and describes some interesting forms of other dances, one in which crabs are represented. He says, all the men dance in single file, and each man during the dance performs some definite movements which illustrate an action in real life, such as agricultural, nautical, or fishing employments; for example, a man would crouch and move his hands about as if he were planting yams or looking for pearl shell at the bottom of the sea. These movements are known to the spectators, though the foreign observer may not catch the allusion. Probably most of these actions have become more or less conventionalised during innumerable dance representations, just as some of the adjuncts to the dance are degenerate representations of objects used in everyday life. In the war dance the actions illustrate the method pursued in war, ending with an evolution which represented the successful warriors threading the heads of the slain on the rattan slings which always hung on their backs when they went out to fight.

Mrs. Murray-Aynsley in a paper on the secular and religious dances in Asia and Africa (Folk-lore Journal, vol. v. pp. 273, 274), describes an aboriginal dance which still takes place annually in certain villages in the Khassia and Jaintia hills. It generally takes place in May. The special reason of the dance is the display of all the unmarried girls from far and near to choose, or be chosen by, suitable parties, and from description it is probable that the girls choose. Many marriages result from this one annual dance. The dances take place in a circular enclosure which is set apart for this annual feast. The musicians sit in the centre, and the girls form a large circle round the musicians, and behind the girls, holding hands in a larger circle, the men dance and go through their part of the performance. The girls perform very quiet movements and dance slowly, while the men jig, leap, hop, and wave their arms, legs, umbrellas, and daos in the wildest confusion, accompanying their movements with the most savage war-whoops, signifying nothing. It is also usual for the men to dance when one of their tribe is buried.

In the Kulu district at Sultanpore is held the feast of Rugonath, the chief god, when the gods belonging to every village in the valley are bound to appear and pay him respect. There is feasting, and the men dance round and round the palanquins containing the inferior gods. When the excitement is at its height the temple attendants seize the palanquins and dance them up and down violently, and make the godlings salaam to each other and to Rugonath, the chief god.

In Spiti, a valley in the Western Himalayas, the people frequently dance for hours for their own amusement. Men and women dance together, all join hands and form a long line or circle. They commence by singing, then dance to the accompaniment of their own voices, and the fun speedily becomes fast and furious (ibid. p. 281).

Amongst the Lamas there are also religious and secular dances performed at their feasts or fairs, the religious dances by the Lamas, the secular by men and women together, or by each sex separately. In one dance those who take part form themselves into two long lines. Each dancer holds on to the one in front of him, as in our game of “Fox and Goose.” The two strings of dancers wind in and out, then divide and dance opposite each other, advancing and receding with a slow undulating movement, which gradually becomes more energetic. Mock sword fights then take place between two combatants, also sword dances, with two crossed weapons laid on the ground, and precisely like those performed at our Highland gatherings. In the religious dances each man wears a gigantic headpiece, which comes down as far as the shoulders. Some of the masks are ornamented. They perform several different dances, in which separate characters are performed, one a Chinese mandarin and his wife, another, two actors wear masks resembling ferocious-looking dogs, one places himself against the entrance door, the other guards the door of exit. They remind one, says Mrs. Murray-Aynsley, of the divan-palas, or doorkeepers, whose statues are seen placed as guards on each side of the shrine of some old Hindu temple. In Algeria the dancing at weddings is performed by men and women. Before each woman went out to dance she was enveloped in a garment which covered her from head to feet, her hands even not being visible, the sleeves being drawn over and tied at the ends so that the hands and arms were enclosed as in a bag. This was apparently a form of disguise, as one woman was sent back because her husband had discovered her. At a funeral also hired female mourners were dancing on the surface of a newly-made grave and uttering wild shrieks.

An interesting account of the war-dance of the Coorgis is also given (ibid. p. 251). “The Coorgis assembled in a clearing in the natural jungle. The forest was only illumined by jungle. The torch-bearers formed a large circle; within the open space, in the centre, were the musicians. One dance was very peculiar, inasmuch as it seemed to be a remnant of a period when every man’s hand was against his brother’s. The performers may consist of any equal number of persons; they always dance in pairs. Before they begin each man is given a bundle of sticks or bamboos. This he holds in his left hand, and a stouter stick is given him in his right hand. At first all the men dance round and round, with head erect, as if going to war. Presently they narrow the circle and assume a crouching attitude, their eyes glancing here, there, and everywhere. The respective adversaries have been singled out; the intending aggressors make a feint or two, then bend their knees so that they are only about two-thirds of their ordinary stature; at the same time they place their feet together and make a succession of bounds, or rather hops, like a frog, and with the sticks the attacking party aim cuts at the legs of the men whom they selected as their adversaries. The latter now takes up the same attitude; he wards off attack, and returns the blow if he can. Whether intentionally or not, one party is victorious in the end.”

“A curious dance is also executed by Hindu women at Sagar, in the Central Provinces of India (ibid. p. 253). Men are present, but as spectators only. Some little time before preparations have been made for this feast. Wheat or other grain has been sown in earth placed in pots made of large leaves, held together by thorns of a species of acacia. The richer women walk along, followed by their attendants carrying trays filled with such pots; the poorer people carry their own plants. As soon as each procession arrives at the ghat, or flight of steps leading down to the lake, every family-circle of friends deposit their pots on the ground and dance round them. After a time the dancers descend to the water’s edge, taking their pots of earth and corn with them. They then wash away the soil from the plants, and distribute these amongst their friends. The whole of the ceremony is observed by the men, but they take no part in it. It probably fixes the season for sowing some particular crop.”

These amongst others are all dances of semi-civilised peoples, and these dances, being all of a ceremonial nature, are probably derived from older customs, and performed in commemoration of these.

There are also surviving some ceremonial dances, such as the singular ceremony observed at Echternach, in Luxemburg, on Whit-Tuesday, in which ten or fifteen thousand pilgrims take part. Professor Attwell thus describes it in Notes and Queries of May 17, 1890:—

“Early on the morning of Whit-Tuesday pilgrims arrive at Echternach from the neighbouring villages, some alone, or in little family parties, some in small bodies personally conducted by their curés, singing litanies in honour of St. Willibrord. At about eight o’clock the bells of the parish church begin to peal, and the clergy, intoning the ‘Veni Creator,’ and preceded by numerous banners, issue from the principal porch and march along the bank of the Sure to a stone crucifix, near which, from an extemporised pulpit, the crowd is addressed. The short sermon ended, the procession begins. It is headed by a choir of some hundreds of voices chanting antiphonally with the clergy the litanies of the saint. Then come numerous ecclesiastics, followed by a band playing the cadenced music of the dance. The pilgrims are headed by young children and men and women belonging to the parish, after whom comes the throng, in groups of from three to six persons of either sex. The dancers take three jumps forward and one backward, or five forward and two backward. It is, of course, impossible for a moving crowd consisting of many thousands to keep anything like time, save those who are near one of the many bands of music, which, at irregular intervals, accompany the procession. No special order is observed, but there is no confusion. Poor mothers with sickly children in their arms jump side by side with young well-to-do girls; old men, broken with toil, jump in step with vigorous fellows in the heyday of youth. Water and wine are freely offered by the townsfolk to the pilgrims, many of whom sink exhausted under the unwonted effort. It sometimes happens that sick persons get paid substitutes to perform for them the expiatory jumping. The distance traversed is less than a mile, but the time occupied is fully two hours. Before the church can be entered sixty-four steps have to be mounted. But the singular backward and forward movements and the accompanying music are continued, not only while the steps are ascended, but during the circumambulation of the church, beneath the altar of which is the tomb of the saint. On reaching the hallowed shrine the devotees manifest their enthusiasm in various ways, kneeling before the altar, which is surrounded by votive offerings, with sobs and gesticulations. When the whole of the immense multitude has passed the shrine, the clergy ascend the altar, the ‘Salve Regina’ is sung, the Benediction is given, and the imposing ceremony is ended.”

Grimm also records the fact that about the year 1133 in a forest near Inda (Ripuaria) a ship was built, set upon wheels, and drawn about the country by men who were yoked to it, first to Aachen (Aix), and up the river to Tongres, Looz, and so on, everywhere with crowds of people assembling and escorting it. Wherever it halted there were joyful shouts, songs of triumph, and dancing round the ship, kept up till far into the night. This Grimm describes as a recollection of an ancient heathen festival. It was utterly repugnant to and opposed strongly by the clergy as a sinful and heathenish piece of work. On the other hand, the secular power authorised and protected it (Teutonic Mythology, i. 258).

The story of the pied piper of Hamelin probably commemorates a procession similar to the Echternach (see Folk-lore Journal, vol. ii. 209).

With this may also be noted a dance recorded by Mr. Newell (Games of American Children, p. 89), who states that the name “Threading the Needle” is given to a dance in which hundreds take part; in which from time to time the pair who form the head of the row raise their arms to allow the line to pass through, coiling and winding like a great serpent. When a French savant asked the peasants of La Châtre why they performed this dance, the answer was, “To make the hemp grow.”

I remember when quite a small child planting hemp seeds in a patch of garden ground, and being told by a maid-servant, an illiterate country girl, that the seeds would not grow well unless we danced, we joined hands and danced round and round in a circle, then stooped down and jumped about, saying, “Please, God, send it all up,” then again danced round. This may have been said only to amuse us, but it may also have been the remains of an old festival dance. I believe there were more words, but I cannot remember them. Hemp seed is associated with ceremonies of magical nature, being one of those used by maidens as a charm to enable them to see a future husband.

Representation in pantomime of the different actions used in the ceremonies of sowing the grain, its growth, and the consequent reaping, binding, and carrying the grain, are practised in different parts of the globe. This is brought down to later times by the custom noted on p. 319, vol. i., where from Long Ago and Best’s Rural Economy of Yorkshire (1641), instances are given of it being customary, at harvest-homes, to give representations of “hirings” of farm-servants. The hiring of a farm labourer, the work he had to do, his terms of service, and the food to be supplied him, were dramatically performed, showing clearly that it had been customary to go through this sort of thing, in earnest of what was expected—in fact, a sort of oral contract, in presence of witnesses.

I will conclude this part of my evidence by a summary of the conclusions arrived at by anthropological authorities.

Sir John Lubbock, in Origins of Civilisation (fifth ed., p. 257), says, “Dancing among savages is no mere amusement.” He quotes from Robertson’s America (iv. p. 133) as follows: “It is an important occupation, which mingles in every occurrence of public or private life. If any intercourse be necessary between two American tribes, the ambassadors of the one approach in a solemn dance, and present the calumets or emblem of peace; the sachems of the other receives it with the same ceremony. If war is denounced against an enemy, it is by a dance expressive of the resentment which they feel, and of the vengeance which they meditate. If the wrath of their gods is to be appeased, or their beneficence to be celebrated; if they rejoice at the birth of a child, or mourn the death of a friend—they have dances appropriate to each of these situations, and suited to the different sentiments with which they are animated. If a person is indisposed, a dance is prescribed as the most effectual means to restore him to health; and if he himself cannot endure the fatigue of such an exercise, the physician or conjurer performs it in his name, as if the virtue of his activity could be transferred to his patient.”

Sir J. Lubbock mentions some special dances practised among different peoples, and gives an illustration of a circle dance practised by the natives of Virginia round a circle of upright stones (p. 268).

Dr. Tylor (Anthropology, p. 296) says, “Savages and barbarians dance their joy and sorrow, love and rage, even their magic and religion. The forest Indians of Brazil, rattle in hand, stamp in one-two-three time round the great earthen pot of intoxicating kawi-liquor; or men or women dance a rude courting dance, advancing in lines with a kind of primitive polka step; or the ferocious war-dance is performed by armed warriors in paint. We have enough of the savage left in us to feel how Australians leaping and yelling at a corrobboree by firelight in the forest can work themselves up into frenzy for next day’s fight. But with our civilised notions it is not so easy to understand that barbarians’ dancing may mean still more than this; it seems to them so real, that they expect it to act on the world outside. Such an example as the buffalo dance (given ante, p. 518) shows how, in the lower level of culture, men dance to express their feeling and wishes. All this explains how in ancient religion dancing came to be one of the chief acts of worship. Religious processions went with song and dance to the Egyptian temples, and Plato said all dancing ought to be thus an act of religion. . . . Modern civilisation has mostly cast off the sacred dance. . . . To see this near its old state the traveller may visit the temples of India, or among the Lamas of Tibet watch the mummers in animal masks dancing the demons out or the new year in, to wild music of drums and shell-trumpets. Remnants of such ceremonies come down from the religion of England before Christian times are still sometimes to be seen in the dances of boys and girls round the midsummer bonfire or mummers of Yuletide.”

Dr. Tylor continues: “At low levels in civilisation it is clear that dancing and play-acting are one. The scenes of hunting and war furnish barbarians with subjects for dances, as when the Gold Coast negroes have gone out to war and their wives at home dance a fetish dance in imitation of battle to give their absent husbands strength and courage. . . . Historians trace from the sacred dances of ancient Greece the dramatic art of the civilised world. Thus from the festivals of the Dionysia arose tragedy and comedy. In the classic ages the players’ art divided into several branches. The pantomimes kept up the earliest form, where the dancers acted in dumb show such pieces as the labours of Herakles, or Kadmos sowing the dragons teeth, while the chorus below accompanied the play by singing the story. The modern pantomime ballets which keep up remains of these ancient performances show how grotesque the old stage gods and heroes must have looked in their painted masks. In Greek tragedy and comedy the business of the dancers and chorus were separated from that of the actors, who recited or chanted each his proper part in the dialogue.”

Grimm (Teutonic Mythology, i. p. 43), says, “Easter fires, May Day fires, Midsummer fires, with their numerous ceremonies, carry us back to heathen sacrifices, especially such customs as rubbing the sacred flame, running through glowing embers, throwing flowers into the fire, baking and distributing loaves or cakes, and the circular dance. Dances passed into plays and dramatic representations.”

It is then clear that dances accompanied with song and pantomimic action have been used by men and women from the earliest period of which we have record, at all times and upon all occasions. In times of joy and mirth, sorrow and loss, victory or defeat, weddings and funerals, plagues and pestilences, famine and plenty, civilised and savage alike dance, act, and sing their griefs and their joys. The gods of all nations have been worshipped by pantomimic dance and song, their altars and temples are encircled by their worshippers; and as the occasion was one of fear or joy, and the god entreated or terrified by his followers, so would the actions and voices of the dancers be in accord. When once certain actions were recognised as successful, fitting, or beautiful, they would tend to become repeated and stereotyped, and the same form would be used for other gods, other occasions, and other customs where the requirements were similar or the same. The circle dance, for instance, after being performed several times would necessarily become a part of the religious customs or ceremony, and form a part of the ordinary religious observance. It would become particularly associated with the place where it was first instituted, and might be used to inaugurate other festivals. We know that the early Christians when taking over to their use the temples and altars of their so-called heathen predecessors, or when erecting a church where a temple had previously stood, held their worship there and performed their dances to their God as the heathens had done to theirs. The custom of encircling a church on its festival day existed until lately in several parishes in England, and this could only be a descendant of the custom once held sacred by all the followers of one belief, demonstrating by their action in group form the fact that they all believed in the same thing and held together, by the clasp of hands and the dance round, their determination to hold to and keep to it.

If these customary dances obtained and have survived in religious ritual to the present day, is it not to be expected that we should find survivals in dance form of non-religious customs which also impressed themselves strongly on the minds of the people? Births, marriages, deaths, the sowing and gathering in of the crops; the protection of cattle from disease and animals of prey; the necessity for water and fire; the protection of the house and the village—have all helped to surround these events with ceremonials which have lasted, and been transmitted from generation to generation, altering to suit later ideas, it is true, but preserving through all some trace of the events which first called them into existence.

It is because of this tendency to believe more in the power of expression by action, than in the power of expression by language alone, that dramatic action and gesture have formed such a necessary part of representation of custom as to become an integral part of it. Limited as is our knowledge of the popular plays performed about the country by troops of strolling players before the age of the written play, we know that their chief attraction must have been the dramatic rendering of characters and events personified by certain well-known actions of the actors, accompanied by special style of dress, or portions of dress, which were recognised as sufficient in themselves to show who and what was being personified. The story was shown more by action than by words; the idea being to present events to the onlooker, and impress them on his mind. It is in these dramatic performances of what was expected we have the germs of the dramatic art that afterwards developed into the regular play or drama. Every important custom of life was probably depicted by pantomimic action. We have, first, words, describing the events, sung or said by a chorus of onlookers and dancers, afterwards a short dialogue between the chief characters taking the place of the chorus, and then, as the number of characters were increased, the representations become something that could be performed independently, without the need of a particular season or custom to render it intelligible.

At this stage of the primitive drama the characters merely present actions of the dramatis personæ time after time, always performed in the same manner, and this would produce conventional methods of presenting certain events. We know that events of a religious nature were presented in the same manner by the Church. This must have been in consequence of the attraction plays possessed as depicting pagan religion and events of ordinary life and manners and customs. It is easily conceivable that before the era of books and literature, a rough sort of presentation of life, present and past, would be eagerly welcomed; and it would not be until the advent of a writer who developed the individual acting, at the expense of the event depicted, that what we know as a play could be written.

Mr. Ordish, in his study of Folk drama, published in the Folk-lore Society’s journal, has conclusively proved the development of the drama independently of the miracle and mystery plays of the Middle Ages, or from the old Greek plays, and this development has taken place through the action of the people, always accustomed to the influence of dramatic representation. Hence in the remains of the traditional games we have preserved a form in which we can see the beginning and early development of the drama. When once the line form was firmly established as an indication of two opposite parties, it would be used for such indication wherever it was required, and thus it became the common property of the children’s game and the early stage. The remains of the line and circle form, as denoting opponents and friendly communion can, I think, be traced in old plays and old methods of acting.

In old pantomimes, the demons or evil spirits and their followers enter on one side and stand in lines; the good fairy and her followers enter on the opposite side and stand in line; the principal characters advance from the line, and talk defiance to each other. We do not have a circle form on the stage, but a half-circle, seated on the stage, is or was until comparatively lately a method of representing a social or family party. Every one who has seen a mummer’s play performed, either in or out of doors, will be aware that the same method obtains in them—the performers are all on the stage or stand together at once, walking forward as each one’s name is mentioned, saying his allotted part, and then standing back again, while the next player has his turn.

The action in these plays has remained in stationary form; as far as the method goes there has probably been very little difference in the manner of presenting them for a long period of time.

These traditional games are valuable, therefore, for the information they afford in a direction not hitherto thought of, namely, in the study of the early drama. If the drama can be seen in its infancy anywhere, surely it can be seen in these children’s plays.

The study of children’s games takes us, therefore, into several departments of research. Many traces of customs that do not belong to modern life, customs that take us back to very early times indeed, are brought before us. The weapons are bows and arrows, the amusements hunting and hawking; animals are found in such close relationship with human beings, that only very primitive conditions of life would allow: contests between men and women occur in such a way that we are taken back to one of the earliest known customs of marriage, that known as marriage by capture—then from this stage to a later, where purchase or equivalent value obtains; then to a marriage with a ceremony which carries us back to the earliest forms of such ceremonies. That such customs can be suggested in connection with these games goes far to prove that they, in fact, originate the game—that no other theory satisfactorily accounts for all the phenomena.

In looking for the motive power which has caused the continuity of these customs to be practised as amusements, we have found that the dramatic power inherent in mankind supplies the necessary evidence, and from this stage we have been led to an interesting point in the early history of the drama and of the stage. It is not, therefore, too much to say that we have in these children’s games some of the oldest historical documents belonging to our race, worthy of being placed side by side with the folk-tale and other monuments of man’s progress from savagery to civilisation.

Alice B. Gomme.

THE END

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