An English village green in mid-summer has a particular charm. The church spire peeps above the towering trees and the pretty houses nestled around have immaculate lawns bright with flowers. There’s a sense that all is well with the world; children and pets scampering around, a game of cricket — ‘the crack of leather on willow .... a ripple of mutters and hands applauding’, a meander through woods filled with birdsong — serene and timeless in a deeply English way.
What could possibly enhance this idyllic scene? A swell of accordion, jingle of bells, thwack of sticks and stomping of feet brings the answer. It’s the Morris men! Clad from head to toe in white with black belts, bells around their calves, and waving white handkerchiefs, they dance their way in rhythmic formation along the lanes, drawing crowds as they have done for centuries.
I stopped to watch a performance at the village of Chipperfield in Hertforshire one recent Sunday and something caught my eye. Or should I say — someone. That someone was a gentleman by the name of Clayton Francis; as the only Indian Morris dancer among a sea of Anglo-Saxon white he naturally drew the eye.
Speaking after his group or ‘side’ finished their energetic performance, Francis explained how he came to be involved in this ancient form of English dance. Born in Calcutta, he arrived in England aged four when his Anglo-Indian parents emigrated from India. He grew up respecting the traditions from the homeland but otherwise immersed in British culture. He first became aware of Morris dancing at school in South West London, largely through his interest in folk music. In fact, in the sixth form he and a classmate aimed to set up a Morris dancing group, but the plan fell through when the teacher who inspired their interest left to take up another job.
It wasn’t until his forties, married with three children, that he turned again to Morris dancing. He admitted to feeling some trepidation before knocking on the door of his local group or ‘Side’.
“I was a little bit reticent before knocking on the door; part of my fear was whether Morris dancing, being quintessentially English, was going to be a hotbed for right wing attitudes,” he said. But he was pleasantly surprised to find, “It’s the most welcoming fraternity you could possibly imagine.”
He’s been with the East Surrey Morris Men, one of the oldest established ‘sides’ in the country, since 2000 and holds an appointed position as ‘Bagman’, responsible for the Club’s finances.
He’s used to being ribbed about his hobby. “I’ve got a group of friends that I cycle with and they ‘take the mick’ when they can, but they’re also supportive,” he said. He also gets a few ‘double takes’ from onlookers when he’s performing, but once again has always received appreciation.
Most of all he enjoys the dance itself.
“With any dance that is done well, where the dancers and musicians are in sync and the movements flow, there is a wonderful sense of freedom in that moment”, he said.
The East Surrey Morris Men, train in the winter months and perform from mid-April through to mid-September. They dance, in sets of six or eight men, on Monday nights and at weekends. They also dance on Boxing Day, the day after Christmas.
There are references to Morris dancing in 15th and 16th Century literature. In Tudor times it was performed regularly at the courts of King Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth I. It is mentioned in Shakespeare’s ‘Henry V’. It fell into decline during the English Civil War in the mid-17th Century and the austere age of Puritanism, but underwent a resurgence during the Restoration. King Charles II was greeted by several teams of Morris men on his triumphal passage to London. Once again Morris dancing to the merry strains of accordion, melodeon, concertina, violin and whistle, became a key element of springtime festivals.
The sides, usually 10 — 20 strong, are mostly all male and their attire is very distinctive. The East Surrey Morris men wear neckerchiefs of any color with white shirts, white trousers, white socks, a black belt and black shoes. Across their shoulders they wear a double ‘baldrick’, an old English word describing a belt used for carrying arrows or weapons. Bells are worn below the knee, strapped around the calves, with alternating ribbons of green, yellow and blue. The white handkerchiefs are thrust vigorously in the air as the dancers perform their steps.
At the center of the baldrick badges are worn to denote the experience of the dancers. They are awarded when the dancer is deemed to have attained the required level of expertise in performing a range of dances. It took Francis three years to gain his badge, which he said is about average.
Most sides include a ‘fool’ and a ‘beast’ (often a man depicting a horse) which entertain and interact with the crowd and dancers.
For Francis, by profession a teacher of IT, and now a grandfather, there is a great deal of enjoyment in “doing the dance well and having fun in the process.” As he pointed out, “It’s a very aerobic activity – you’ve got to be reasonably fit and keep fit.”
It’s probably true to say that Morris dancers don’t enjoy the same respect among the British public as, say, rock stars; there are often sniggers among the onlookers, but it’s a tradition that lies deep within the heart of the nation. Money collected goes to support good causes. As Francis said, people look at it with a ‘wry smile’ and the attitude of pubs ranges from “really supportive” to “complete indifference” but all in all it would be “more than a pity if it were to disappear.”
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