Bob and I went to a few different historical sites during
our summer vacation this year. One was
Louisbourg, a re-built fort on the far East coast near Sydney.
It’s pretty expansive and full of people in period costume, pretending
to be actual residents of the fort.
Another was St. Georges, the oldest town in Bermuda,
which is of a similar vintage and feel to Louisbourg, strangely enough.
In both of these locations, one can partake in free daily
historical reenactments. Louisbourg has
more on offer- weapons displays, blacksmithing, baking and public
punishment. We saw the firing of the
historical weapons. It was interesting
enough, and didn’t have a lot of talking, mostly just some music played by the
marching band, and then some firing of some guns, and then some more music
while they marched out.
In Bermuda, we saw their
only historical reenactment- public “ducking”.
I think it’s sort of funny that there would be enough interest in
historical methods of punishment that in both Louisbourg and Bermuda
they would have punishment demos, but I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised
given what passes for entertainment these days.
Anyway, so we gathered around “ye olde square” to hear ye,
hear ye the town crier and his charges against ye olde wench.
As it happened, she was accused of being a “nag” and a
“gossip”.
How dare she.
Town crier, old fat man that he is, spent a long, long time
blustering about how this woman as guilty, guilty, guilty, and she better damn
well repent lest she be “ducked”.
Ducking, it turns out, means getting stuck on a chair on the
end of a long platform and then dunked under water.
The good part of the whole thing is the part where the
person gets ducked.
No one comes to hear the old dude talk.
It was pretty boring.
At one point, Bob muttered under his breath:
“Bo-rrrrrring. DUCK THE WITCH!”
Eventually, they did.
Then they did it again.
And again.
And again.
…to a point where it, too, became boring.
We were laughing about that whole scenario again tonight and
we got to thinking how funny it actually would have been had Bob YELLED
“BO-RRRRRRING. DUCK
THE WITCH!”
instead of whispering it.
Then we were thinking about how it would be even MORE funny
if we got organized and heckled from all angles.
And how it would be EVEN MORE FUNNY to organize a TROUPE of
“thespians” (as Bob would like them to be known) and hijack volunteer, free
historical reenactments.
It would be easy.
Find out the schedule of these events. Get a group of moderately talented, yet
totally unscrupulous, actors together.
Locate and dress in period costumes.
Arrive discreetly, so as to not draw too much attention.
At a key moment, interrupt and insert selves into the
scenario.
“Hear ye hear ye!
This woman stands accused of being a nag and a gossip”
“Hear YE hear YE!
This man stands accused of being boring!”
“…Who are you?”
“Why, I’m the town crier.”
“…um, I am the
town crier. Shift change isn’t until
5. I don’t even know you…”
“You hear that, good people??? That sounds like witch talk! Duck this unsavory fellow!!!”
I know what you are thinking. Recruiting a band of actors willing and able
to play such difficult roles would be hard.
But I have a solution:
Simply tell them that they are going to be a part of a
performance art piece and it will contribute greatly to their portfolio.
I know what you are thinking. Where can I find period costumes on such
short notice? To that, I simply respond:
Those volunteer jerks got them somewhere, don’t be such a baby.
I know what you are thinking. “I don’t want to get punched in the face by
some Bermudian town crier.”
I think the risk is far greater in Canada, but
worry not. Many period costumes come
complete with weapons. Simply brandish
when danger arises. When in doubt, draw
your sword…words to live by.
Of course, I know that there are probably those who are
still wary of this plan. I have an
alternate proposal for those ninnies too scaredy to follow through with this
one.
ALTERNATE PLAN FOR BABIES
You’ll still need costumes.
You’ll still need actors.
You can just skip the part where you hijack someone else’s
historical reenactment and make up your own.
I know what you are thinking.
That’s not nearly as funny.
Actually, it might be even more funny, if you are willing to
perform your reenactment in a fairly public place.
The funny lies in what story you decide to tell…and how many
historical “facts” you decide to include.
“Hear ye hear ye! We
are here to share with you the story of Amos of Lethbridge!”
“Little known Amos B. Reilly brought the bagel to the
prairies on the back of a donkey!”
“Before they were married, his wife was a diamond
miner! She discovered that there was
more money in producing ‘schmear’! It
was a match made in heaven!”
“On this VERY spot was where Amos and Shirley first met!”
“Interestingly enough, this is also the spot where Amos
died, clutching his dear bagel to his chest!”
“His recipe lives on though, here are free samples!”
Later that day…
“Today I tried a famous Amos bagel. Very delicious. Shirley schmear is also very tasty.”
“I love history.”
I wonder how many people you could get to stand around and
listen to your crap if you wore a costume and put up a sign that said
“historical reenactment”. Probably a
lot, if you also wrote on the sign “free”.
Moral of this story: I'd be way more into history if it involved free bagels.
