May-Day

It is the choice time of the year,
For the violets now appear;
Now the rose receives its birth,
And pretty primrose decks the earth.
Then to the May-pole come away,
For it is now a holiday.

ACTAEON AND DIANA.

As I was lying in bed this morning, enjoying one of those half-dreams,
half-reveries, which are so pleasant in the country, when the birds are
singing about the window, and the sunbeams peeping through the curtains,
I was roused by the sound of music. On going down-stairs, I found a
number of villagers dressed in their holiday clothes, bearing a pole
ornamented with garlands and ribands, and accompanied by the village
band of music, under the direction of the tailor, the pale fellow who
plays on the clarionet. They had all sprigs of hawthorn, or, as it is
called, "the May," in their hats, and had brought green branches and
flowers to decorate the Hall door and windows. They had come to give
notice that the May-pole was reared on the green, and to invite the
household to witness the sports. The Hall, according to custom, became a
scene of hurry and delightful confusion. The servants were all agog with
May and music; and there was no keeping either the tongues or the feet
of the maids quiet, who were anticipating the sports of the green, and
the evening dance.

I repaired to the village at an early hour to enjoy the merry-making.
The morning was pure and sunny, such as a May morning is always
described. The fields were white with daisies, the hawthorn was covered
with its fragrant blossoms, the bee hummed about every bank, and the
swallow played high in the air about the village steeple. It was one of
those genial days when we seem to draw in pleasure with the very air we
breathe, and to feel happy we know not why. Whoever has felt the worth
of worthy man, or has doted on lovely woman, will, on such a day, call
them tenderly to mind, and feel his heart all alive with long-buried
recollections. "For thenne," says the excellent romance of King Arthur,
"lovers call ageyne to their mynde old gentilnes and old servyse, and
many kind dedes that were forgotten by neglygence."

Before reaching the village, I saw the May-pole towering above the
cottages, with its gay garlands and streamers, and heard the sound of
music. I found that there had been booths set up near it, for the
reception of company; and a bower of green branches and flowers for the
Queen of May, a fresh, rosy-cheeked girl of the village.

A band of morris-dancers were capering on the green in their fantastic
dresses, jingling with hawks' bells, with a boy dressed up as Maid
Marian, and the attendant fool rattling his box to collect contributions
from the bystanders. The gipsy women, too, were already plying their
mystery in by-corners of the village, reading the hands of the simple
country girls, and no doubt promising them all good husbands and tribes
of children.

The squire made his appearance in the course of the morning, attended by
the parson, and was received with loud acclamations. He mingled among
the country people throughout the day, giving and receiving pleasure
wherever he went. The amusements of the day were under the management of
Slingsby, the schoolmaster, who is not merely lord of misrule in his
school, but master of the revels to the village. He was bustling about
with the perplexed and anxious air of a man who has the oppressive
burthen of promoting other people's merriment upon his mind. He had
involved himself in a dozen scrapes in consequence of a politic
intrigue, which, by the by, Master Simon and the Oxonian were at the
bottom of, which had for object the election of the Queen of May. He had
met with violent opposition from a faction of ale-drinkers, who were in
favour of a bouncing barmaid, the daughter of the innkeeper; but he had
been too strongly backed not to carry his point, though it shows that
these rural crowns, like all others, are objects of great ambition and
heart-burning. I am told that Master Simon takes great interest, though
in an underhand way, in the election of these May-Day Queens, and that
the chaplet is generally secured for some rustic beauty that has found
favour in his eyes. In the course of the day there were various games
of strength and agility on the green, at which a knot of village
veterans presided, as judges of the lists. Among those I perceived that
Ready-Money Jack took the lead, looking with a learned and critical eye
on the merits of the different candidates; and though he was very
laconic, and sometimes merely expressed himself by a nod, yet it was
evident that his opinions far outweighed those of the most loquacious.

Young Jack Tibbets was the hero of the day, and carried off most of the
prizes, though in some of the feats of agility he was rivalled by the
"prodigal son," who appeared much in his element on this occasion; but
his most formidable competitor was the notorious gipsy, the redoubtable
"Starlight Tom." I was rejoiced at having an opportunity of seeing this
"minion of the moon" in broad daylight. I found him a tall, swarthy,
good-looking fellow, with a lofty air, something like what I have seen
in an Indian chieftain; and with a certain lounging, easy, and almost
graceful carriage, which I have often remarked in beings of the
lazzaroni order, that lead an idle, loitering life, and have a
gentleman-like contempt of labour.

Master Simon and the old general reconnoitred the ground together, and
indulged a vast deal of harmless raking among the buxom country girls.
Master Simon would give some of them a kiss on meeting with them, and
would ask after their sisters, for he is acquainted with most of the
farmers' families. Sometimes he would whisper, and affect to talk
mischievously with them, and, if bantered on the subject, would turn it
off with a laugh, though it was evident he liked to be suspected of
being a gay Lothario amongst them.

He had much to say to the farmers about their farms, and seemed to know
all their horses by name. There was an old fellow, with a round, ruddy
face, and a night-cap under his hat, the village wit, who took several
occasions to crack a joke with him in the hearing of his companions, to
whom he would turn and wink hard when Master Simon had passed.

The harmony of the day, however, had nearly at one time been interrupted
by the appearance of the radical on the ground, with two or three of his
disciples. He soon got engaged in argument in the very thick of the
throng, above which I could hear his voice, and now and then see his
meagre hand, half a mile out of the sleeve, elevated in the air in
violent gesticulation, and flourishing a pamphlet by way of truncheon.
He was decrying these idle nonsensical amusements in times of public
distress, when it was every one's business to think of other matters,
and to be miserable. The honest village logicians could make no stand
against him, especially as he was seconded by his proselytes; when, to
their great joy, Master Simon and the general came drifting down into
the field of action. I saw that Master Simon was for making off, as soon
as he found himself in the neighbourhood of this fireship; but the
general was too loyal to suffer such talk in his hearing, and thought,
no doubt, that a look and a word from a gentleman would be sufficient to
shut up so shabby an orator. The latter, however, was no respecter of
persons, but rather seemed to exult in having such important
antagonists. He talked with greater volubility than ever, and soon
drowned them with declamation on the subject of taxes, poor's rates, and
the national debt. Master Simon endeavoured to brush along in his usual
excursive manner, which had always answered amazingly well with the
villagers; but the radical was one of those pestilent fellows that pin a
man down to facts, and, indeed, he had two or three pamphlets in his
pocket, to support everything he advanced by printed documents. The
general, too, found himself betrayed into a more serious action than his
dignity could brook, and looked like a mighty Dutch Indiaman grievously
peppered by a petty privateer. It was in vain that he swelled and looked
big, and talked large, and endeavoured to make up by pomp of manner for
poverty of matter; every home-thrust of the radical made him wheeze like
a bellows, and seemed to let a volume of wind out of him. In a word, the
two worthies from the Hall were completely dumbfounded, and this, too,
in the presence of several of Master Simon's staunch admirers, who had
always looked up to him as infallible. I do not know how he and the
general would have managed to draw their forces decently from the field,
had there not been a match at grinning through a horse-collar
announced, whereupon the radical retired with great expression of
contempt, and as soon as his back was turned, the argument was carried
against him all hollow.

"Did you ever hear such a pack of stuff, general?" said Master Simon;
"there's no talking with one of these chaps when he once gets that
confounded Cobbett in his head."

"S'blood, sir!" said the general, wiping his forehead, "such fellows
ought all to be transported!"

In the latter part of the day the ladies from the Hall paid a visit to
the green. The fair Julia made her appearance, leaning on her lover's
arm, and looking extremely pale and interesting. As she is a great
favourite in the village, where she has been known from childhood, and
as her late accident had been much talked about, the sight of her caused
very manifest delight, and some of the old women of the village blessed
her sweet face as she passed.

While they were walking about, I noticed the schoolmaster in earnest
conversation with the young girl that represented the Queen of May,
evidently endeavouring to spirit her up to some formidable undertaking.
At length, as the party from the Hall approached her bower, she came
forth, faltering at every step, until she reached the spot where the
fair Julia stood between her lover and Lady Lillycraft. The little Queen
then took the chaplet of flowers from her head, and attempted to put it
on that of the bride elect; but the confusion of both was so great, that
the wreath would have fallen to the ground had not the officer caught
it, and, laughing, placed it upon the blushing brows of his mistress.
There was something charming in the very embarrassment of these two
young creatures, both so beautiful, yet so different in their kinds of
beauty. Master Simon told me, afterwards, that the Queen of May was to
have spoken a few verses which the schoolmaster had written for her; but
that she had neither wit to understand, nor memory to recollect them.
"Besides," added he, "between you and I, she murders the king's English
abominably; so she has acted the part of a wise woman in holding her
tongue, and trusting to her pretty face."

Among the other characters from the Hall was Mrs. Hannah, my Lady
Lillycraft's gentlewoman: to my surprise she was escorted by old Christy
the huntsman, and followed by his ghost of a greyhound; but I find they
are very old acquaintances, being drawn together from some sympathy of
disposition. Mrs. Hannah moved about with starched dignity among the
rustics, who drew back from her with more awe than they did from her
mistress. Her mouth seemed shut as with a clasp; excepting that I now
and then heard the word "fellows!" escape from between her lips, as she
got accidentally jostled in the crowd.

But there was one other heart present that did not enter into the
merriment of the scene, which was that of the simple Phoebe Wilkins, the
housekeeper's niece. The poor girl has continued to pine and whine for
some time past, in consequence of the obstinate coldness of her lover;
never was a little flirtation more severely punished. She appeared this
day on the green, gallanted by a smart servant out of livery, and had
evidently resolved to try the hazardous experiment of awakening the
jealousy of her lover. She was dressed in her very best; affected an air
of great gaiety: talked loud and girlishly, and laughed when there was
nothing to laugh at. There was, however, an aching, heavy heart, in the
poor baggage's bosom, in spite of all her levity. Her eye turned every
now and then in quest of her reckless lover, and her cheek grew pale,
and her fictitious gaiety vanished, on seeing him paying his rustic
homage to the little May-day Queen.

My attention was now diverted by a fresh stir and bustle. Music was
heard from a distance; a banner was seen advancing up the road, preceded
by a rustic band playing something like a march, and followed by a
sturdy throng of country lads, the chivalry of a neighbouring and
rival village.

No sooner had they reached the green than they challenged the heroes of
the day to new trials of strength and activity. Several gymnastic
contests ensued for the honour of the respective villages. In the course
of these exercises, young Tibbets and the champion of the adverse party
had an obstinate match at wrestling. They tugged, and strained, and
panted, without either getting the mastery, until both came to the
ground, and rolled upon the green. Just then the disconsolate Phoebe
came by. She saw her recreant lover in fierce contest, as she thought,
and in danger. In a moment pride, pique, and coquetry were forgotten;
she rushed into the ring, seized upon the rival champion by the hair,
and was on the point of wreaking on him her puny vengeance, when a
buxom, strapping, country lass, the sweetheart of the prostrate swain,
pounced upon her like a hawk, and would have stripped her of her fine
plumage in a twinkling, had she also not been seized in her turn.

A complete tumult ensued. The chivalry of the two villages became
embroiled. Blows began to be dealt, and sticks to be flourished. Phoebe
was carried off from the field in hysterics. In vain did the sages of
the village interfere. The sententious apothecary endeavoured to pour
the soothing oil of his philosophy upon this tempestuous sea of passion,
but was tumbled into the dust. Slingsby, the pedagogue, who is a great
lover of peace, went into the middle of the throng, as marshal of the
day, to put an end to the commotion, but was rent in twain, and came out
with his garment hanging in two strips from his shoulders; upon which
the prodigal son dashed in with fury to revenge the insult which his
patron had sustained. The tumult thickened; I caught glimpses of the
jockey-cap of old Christy, like the helmet of a chieftain, bobbing about
in the midst of the scuffle; while Mrs. Hannah, separated from her
doughty protector, was squalling and striking at right and left with a
faded parasol; being tossed and tousled about by the crowd in such wise
as never happened to maiden gentlewoman before.

At length I beheld old Ready-Money Jack making his way into the very
thickest of the throng; tearing it, as it were, apart, and enforcing
peace _vi et armis_. It was surprising to see the sudden quiet that
ensued. The storm settled down at once into tranquillity. The parties,
having no real grounds of hostility, were readily pacified, and in fact
were a little at a loss to know why and how they had got by the ears.
Slingsby was speedily stitched together again by his friend the tailor,
and resumed his usual good humour. Mrs. Hannah drew on one side to plume
her rumpled feathers; and old Christy, having repaired his damages, took
her under his arm, and they swept back again to the Hall, ten times
more bitter against mankind than ever.

The Tibbets family alone seemed slow in recovering from the agitation of
the scene. Young Jack was evidently very much moved by the heroism of
the unlucky Phoebe. His mother, who had been summoned to the field of
action by news of the affray, was in a sad panic, and had need of all
her management to keep him from following his mistress, and coming to a
perfect reconciliation.

What heightened the alarm and perplexity of the good managing dame was,
that the matter had roused the slow apprehension of old Ready-Money
himself; who was very much struck by the intrepid interference of so
pretty and delicate a girl, and was sadly puzzled to understand the
meaning of the violent agitation in his family.

When all this came to the ears of the squire, he was grievously
scandalised that his May-day fête should have been disgraced by such a
brawl. He ordered Phoebe to appear before him; but the girl was so
frightened and distressed, that she came sobbing and trembling, and, at
the first question he asked, fell again into hysterics. Lady Lillycraft,
who had understood that there was an affair of the heart at the bottom
of this distress, immediately took the girl into great favour and
protection, and made her peace with the squire. This was the only thing
that disturbed the harmony of the day, if we except the discomfiture of
Master Simon and the general by the radical. Upon the whole, therefore,
the squire had very fair reason to be satisfied that he had rode his
hobby throughout the day without any other molestation.

The reader, learned in these matters, will perceive that all this was
but a faint shadow of the once gay and fanciful rites of May. The
peasantry have lost the proper feeling for these rites, and have grown
almost as strange to them as the boors of La Mancha were to the customs
of chivalry in the days of the valorous Don Quixote. Indeed, I
considered it a proof of the discretion with which the squire rides his
hobby, that he had not pushed the thing any farther, nor attempted to
revive many obsolete usages of the day, which, in the present
matter-of-fact times, would appear affected and absurd. I must say,
though I do it under the rose, the general brawl in which this festival
had nearly terminated, has made me doubt whether these rural customs of
the good old times were always so very loving and innocent as we are apt
to fancy them; and whether the peasantry in those times were really so
Arcadian as they have been fondly represented. I begin to fear

--"Those days were never; airy dreams
Sat for the picture, and the poet's hand,
Imparting substance to an empty shade,
Imposed a gay delirium for a truth.
Grant it; I still must envy them an age
That favoured such a dream."

May-Day

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