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THE Band.
A collection of beads and beards, mostly interwoven, sandals and smocks, the sweet smell of incense, acoustic guitars, reed pipes, accordions (or accordia) and violins. This is
The Band.
Jenkin's Ear
who will play such contemporary folk songs as
Portobello '39 (about Vernon's capture of same in the 1739 War of Jenkin's Ear)
Get down to Jericho
Bean Feast
The Jersey Lily
Jeremy Diddler
(Jeremy Diddler, in Kenny's farce Raising the Wind (1803), frequently borrowed small sums of money which he failed to return. The word "diddle" (meaning "to swindle") is probably based on this name).
The Bloody Assizes ("I'll hang for a sheep...")
(commemorating Judge Jeffreys, who brought violent justice to the rioters of Monmouth in 1685)
They will not only play a set which they dedicate, somewhat inappropriately, given the nature of said set, to "Jubal, the Father of Music", they will also provide instrumental accompaniment for the various games and rituals customary on the day of the Vernal Jamboree, July 1st. Oh boy. Veda was never sure which she hated most, folkies or jazzoes. That question is answered now by Jenkin's Ear.
Ohhhh for an ear for an ear for an ear
We seized the port in that glorious year
seventeen hundred and thirty nine
and sailed down the line
and the Spaniards scuttled away for fear
Ohhhh, for an ear for an ear for an ear…
Jonquil sways to the fiddle and pipe, Jeoffrey held aloft so he can see the band. When she claps her hands, she accidentally squashes him, and apologises in a low coo.
Dusk is drawing in. Gloom is gathering. A large bonfire has been lit and some children are watching the red sparks flying towards the moon, a watery wafer pressed palely against an indigo sky.
To the sound of fiddle, pipe and drum, a curious four foot construction of leaves and branches creeps through the crowd. There is much applause and laughter. The 'bush' pauses occasionally to be patted by spectators. Once or twice it chases after children causing them to collapse on the grass, half-laughing, half-crying, whilst indulgent parents grin and raise their bottles to salute the lumbering leaves.
This is the Jack-in-the-Green, a wooden framework covered with branches and leaves and moved by a boy concealed within, a typically Jasonic appropriation of a traditional custom, in this case the chimney sweeps' May Day revels. Jack shakes himself. Leaves shirrrr to the ground. A nearby child is so absorbed by the moving bush that her melting vanilla ice cream is dribbling down her fist and onto her cuff.
The band strikes up with a squeeeeeeeze and a squaaaawwwwk and charges boldly into the hand-clapping, foot-stomping, whistle-blowing
Ballad of Jemmy Twitcher
Jemmy Twitcher - a cunning highwayman who appears as a member of MacHeath's gang in The Beggar's Opera (1728) by John Gay (1685-1732). The verb "to twitch" allegedly derives from highwayman's slang, 'cutting a purse' being known as "twitching" the purse from its owner.
'Twitcher' was the nickname given by Thomas Gray in a poem of 1765 to John, Lord Sandwich (1718-92) who was shot by Rev. "Captain" Hackman out of jealousy for his liaison with a certain Miss Ray. Sandwich was a notorious gambler who gave his name to the famous bread-based delicacy which sustained him in his lengthy bouts of dice and card playing.
'Twas one dark night in the bar of the Jay
That Jemmy Twitcher started to play
A long game of cards
With a couple of guards
And he took all their money and sent them away
Out by an oak tree, waiting to poach
A jewel from a merchant travelling by coach
"Stand and deliver. I'll have that gold brooch."
"Stand and deliver, stand and deliver."
The merchant resists, and is shot through the liver.
And Jemmy Twitcher rides down to the river.
And so on and so forth for fourteen loooooong verses. Veda yawns a little too loudly. People glare. At the end of the song the band go into a solemn slow march. A large replica of a molehill begins a stately, inch-by-inch progress down the centre of the field towards the stage. The crowd falls silent and Accordion and Fiddle announce "The Veneration of the Molehill."
Like the Jack-in-the-Green, it is a wooden framework concealing a youth but this one has rich dark soil scattered over its surface. On a warm night such as tonight the youth is in danger of baking under the soil like a potato or a hedgehog or even, Veda concludes, a mole. Unlike Jack-in-the-Green, there is no laughter. Several people kneel as the contraption goes by. One or two hold their children out to touch it. One or two make vague signs of the cross and others simply stand in solemn silence. The little girl stares in wonder and drops the remaining ice cream on her mother's sandal. Jonquil whimpers slightly, strokes Jeoffrey's head and stares into the violetting sky.
It is wonderfully detailed. As it passes, both toddler and Jonquil reach for handfuls of dirt. Jonquil presses the soil to her breast. The toddler puts it in her mouth.
"Oh glorious Mole," shouts the fiddler, his bushy brown beard bristling in the breeze.
"Oh marvellous Mole," shouts back the crowd.
"The little gentleman in the velvet coat," yells the accordionist, his ginger beard jutting defiance.
"Saviour of the Land," responds the crowd.
"Oh Mole, we praise you and your marvellous hill," intones the singer, dragging his fingers through his wispy grey beard.
"You bring us hope," responds the crowd.
"We sing the praise of the mole and his works," chants the drummer, his lips moving mightily above his fair stubble.
"Remember the Mole," moans the crowd.
Jonquil Jabot has her eyes firmly closed and sways slightly as the band sings-
"Venerate the Mole and remember his hill."
The crowd chants-
"Molehill, Molehill, Molehill, Molehill, Molehill!"
"Molehill?" says Veda.
"Oh, Mole, thou puller-down of kings and princes" yells Bushybeard.
The crowd cheeeeeeer
"Righter of wrongs and bringer of justice" yells Stubbler.
The crowd go wiiiild.
"Slayer of traitors - we honour your name!" screeeams Strappy.
A frrrrrrrenzy
And when a figure dressed as a mole, complete with little pink paws and a black button nose appears out of the Molehill, Veda thinks Jonquil will be sick with excitement. The toddler is. Or perhaps it's the ice cream.
"The Little Patriot in the Velvet Coat!" yells Grey Beard.
Veda understands.
The death of King William III on 8 March 1702 has been attributed to a mole. The King was thrown from his horse Sorrel when it stumbled over a molehill on 21 February 1702, causing the King to shatter his collarbone. Jacobites in the reign of Queen Anne would toast the "little gentleman in velvet" who had raised the hill, thus despatching the usurping son-in-law after two weeks in well-deserved agony.
There is another explosion of joy as the band shouts
"A toast to Judge Jefferys!"
and launches into
I'll be hanged for a sheep if not for the King
Freedom is our prizes
Till the '88 sealed our fate
Hooray for the Bloody Assizes!
Everyone joins in the hooray and toasts the Judge.
For half of thirteen pence ha'penny wages
I would have cleared all the town cages,
And you should ha' been rid of all the stages
Jack Ketch and his gallows groan
"We'll be hanged for a sheep if not for the King
Freedom is our prizes
Till the '88 sealed our fate
Hooray for the Bloody Assizes!
The fevered frenzy of the
crowd is boiling up. The band strikes a thunderous chord of
C major
and shout together
vivat vivat
jacobus
rex angolorum
and the crowd shouts in acclamation of King James, Second of that Name, overthrown and exiled. Softly, they hum as Jenkin's Ear gently strum their way into a chorus of
Te Regem, dominum volumus, dulcissime Jacobi:
Templa Deis, leges populis, das ocia ferro:
(Sweet James, we want you to be our king.
Instead of war, you bring peace, religion and law)
All around the ruined abbey, candles are lit, torches burn brightly and a mood of tranquillity seems to descend. The little girl, like Jonquil Jabot, is quite transfixed, staring at the stars, bright white pricks of light. The music is sensual, soothing, anthemic, and together the members of J.A.S.On, the followers of Jay (or J), this organisation which grew out of a secret league of artists founded by a Pope in the face of upheaval and confrontation in the sixteenth century stand among fallen stones in a field in Yorkshire humming their allegiance to a king deposed over three hundred years ago and to his descendents. Over the music, Greybeard says "The King Across the Water is coming. The jay is coming! July 25th! The jay will come!"
Te Regem, dominum volumus, dulcissime Jay:
Templa Deis, leges populis, das ocia ferro:
(Sweet Jay, we want you to be our king.
Instead of war, you bring peace, religion and law)
The most impressive and spectacular cart yet, dwarfing both Jack and the Molehill, is dragged into the arena. This is the Juggernaut, named for the Hindu God Jagganath, the Lord of the World, whose temple at Puir is said to hold the Golden Tooth of the Buddha. In the centre of the car is a huge golden crown. On one side stands a life-sized figure of Saint Jerome removing a thorn from the pad of a lion. On the other, a life-sized figure of Saint Justus of Beauvais, a kneeling boy with an executioner's sword suspended over his juvenile neck. In the centre, stretched across the front of the car, is a huge Golden Fleece.
As this cart passes by, people hurl flowers and clothing under the wheels. The little girl drools, the soily saliva brown and gritty, and wets herself with excitement. Veda isn't convinced by Jonquil's continence either.
The band strikes up a wild dance tune and the people join hands and dance round the cart. Veda is reminded of a Bacchanalian-Saturnalian-Golden Calfian frenzy. Jazey Joskin dances into view, fat face flushed, leek held aloft like an Olympic torch. He throws his wig onto the Juggernaut then is lost in the crowd. Jonquil is swept off on a tide of faces, Jeoffrey held high. Jerboa and Jacaranda, hand in hand, skip past. They are wearing matching white T-shirts bearing images of Parmigianino's Vision of St Jerome. Grinning, they grab Veda's hands and whisk her away. Jackie sings-
Cold is the wind and wet is the rain,
With a hey nonny nonny and a derry down down
Giles Jankyn. In Dance Mode.
Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain
Ho well done, with a jolly jack crown.
They dance in a circle, joining hands. The children's faces are flushed and excited. Veda fixes her eyes on the images before her, the vast black J. and the Vision of Jerome
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