Chapter L: S., a Warwickshire correspondent, communicates this Easter custom to (5)

St. Catharine often saw the devil. According to Ribadeneira, at six years old she knew the lives of the holy fathers and hermits by revelation, practised abstinence, and shut herself up with other children in a room, where they whipped themselves. At seven she offered herself to the Virgin as a spouse for her son. When marriageable, she refused the importunity of her parents to wed, and having cut off her hair to keep her vow, they made her a kitchen-maid; but her father, one day as he was praying in a corner, seeing the Holy Ghost sitting upon her head in the shape of a dove, she was released from drudgery, and was favoured with a revelation from St. Dominick. She eat no meat, drank only water, and at last left off bread, sustaining herself by herbs alone, and her grace before meals was, “Let us go take the punishment due to this miserable sinner.” She so mastered sleep, that she scarcely took any rest, and her bed was only boards. She wore around her body next to the skin a chain of iron, which sunk into her flesh. Three times a day, and for an hour and a half each time, she flogged herself with another iron chain, till great streams of blood ran down; and when she took the black and white habit of the order of St. Dominick she increased her mortification. For three years she never spoke, except at confession; never stirred out of her cell but to go to the church; and sat up all night watching--taking rest in the quire at matins only, and then lying upon the floor with a piece of wood under her head for a bolster. She was tempted by devils in a strange manner described by Ribadeneira: but to drive them away, she disciplined her body with the iron chain so much the more. When the fiend perceived he could make no impression on her virginal heart, he changed his battery. She had undertaken to cure an old woman who had a cancer in her breast so loathsome, that no one would go near her, but by the devil’s instigation, the old woman gave out that Catharine was not as good as she should be, and stuck to her point. Catharine, knowing the devil’s tricks, would not desist; and, to do her honour, Christ appeared, and offered to her the choice of two crowns--one of pure gold, the other of thorns; she took the crown of thorns, pressed it so close upon her head, that it gave her great pain; and Christ commanded her to continue her attendance upon the woman, who, in consequence of a vision, confessed her calumny, to the great confusion of the devil. Ribadeneira says that after this, Christ appeared to her, “opened to her the wound in his side, and made her drink till she was so ravished, that her soul was deprived of its functions.” Her love and affection to Christ were so intense, that she was almost always languishing and sick; at last it took away her life, and she was dead for four hours, in which time she saw strange things concerning heaven, hell, and purgatory. On a certain day he appeared to her, with his mother and other saints, and espoused her in a marvellous and singular manner; visited her almost continually with the greatest familiarity and affection, sometimes in their company, though ordinarily he came alone, and entertained her by reciting and singing psalms with her. Once as she was coming home from church, he appeared to her in the disguise of a pilgrim, and begged a coat of her; she returned to the church, and secretly taking off her petticoat, brought it to him, not knowing who he was. He asked her for a shirt; she bade him follow her home, and she gave him her shift. Not content with this, he requested more clothes of her, as well for himself as a companion; but as she had nothing else left, and was much afflicted, in the night, he appeared to her as the pilgrim, and showing her what she had bestowed upon him in the garb he had assumed, promised to give her an invisible garment, which should keep her from all cold both of body and soul. One time she prayed to him to take from her her heart of flesh, and it seemed to her that he came, and opening her side, took out her heart, and carried it away with him. It appeared almost incredible to her confessor when she told him she had no heart; “Yet,” says Ribadeneira, “that which happened afterwards was a certain argument of the truth; for, in a few days, Christ appeared to her in great brightness, holding in his hand a ruddy heart, most beautiful to behold, and coming to her, put it into her left side, and said, ‘My daughter Catharine, now thou hast my heart instead of thy own;’ and having said this, he closed up her side again, in proof whereof a scar remained in her side, which she often showed.” By her influence with heaven, she obtained forgiveness for numbers that were ready to fall into hell. Two hardened and impenitent thieves, being led to execution, and tied and tortured on a cart, were attended by a multitude of devils. Catharine begged the favour of going with them in the cart to the city gates, and there by her prayers and intercession, Christ showed himself to the thieves, all bloody and full of wounds, invited them to penance, and promised them pardon if they would repent, which they accordingly did. Through her intercession, her mother, who died without confession, was raised to life again, and lived till she was fourscore and nine years old. She had the gift of prophecy, healed the sick at the last gasp, cast out devils, and worked miracles. Once making bread of tainted flour, the “queen of angels” came to help her to knead it, and it proved to be most excellent bread, white and savoury. She drew also very good wine out of an empty hogshead. Her numerous victories over the devil enraged him so much, that he tormented her till she was nothing but skin and bones. Sometimes he amused himself with throwing her into the fire, and the marks and prints of the wounds he gave her, appeared all over her body. “At length,” says Ribadeneira, “when she was three and thirty years old, she entered into an agony, fought the devil valiantly, and triumphed over him at her death, which happened at Rome on the 29th of April, 1380, her ghost appearing to Father Raymundus, her confessor, at Genoa, on the same day, and her body working so many miracles, that for the multitude of people resorting thither, it could not be buried for three days.” All this may be seen in Ribadeneira’s “Lives of the Saints,” with more, which, from regard to the reader’s feelings, is not even adverted to. It should be added, that the present particulars are from the “Miraculous Host,” a pamphlet published in 1821, in illustration of a story, said to have been used in converting two ladies belonging to the family of Mr. Loveday of Hammersmith.

THE SEASON.

With the spring comes the lark, and now she carols her rich melody from the earliest beam to the meridian of solar glory. There is no enjoyment more delicious to the ear of nature, than her aërial song in this delightful season:--

THE SKY-LARK.

O, earliest singer! O, care-charming bird,
Married to Morning by a sweeter hymn
Than priest e’er chaunted from his cloister dim
At midnight,--or veiled virgin’s holier word
At sunrise or the paler evening heard,--
To which of all Heaven’s young and lovely Hours,
Who wreathe soft light in hyacinthine bowers,
Beautiful Spirit, is thy suit preferred?
--Unlike the creatures of this low dull earth,
Still dost thou woo, although thy suit be won;
And thus thy mistress bright is pleased ever.
Oh! lose not thou this mark of finer birth--
So may’st thou yet live on, from sun to sun,
Thy joy uncheck’d, thy sweet song silent never.

_Barry Cornwall._

THE WEATHER.

To the indications respecting rain by the flight of the swallow, mentioned under April 23, should be added, that when the swallow is observed to fly high, the weather will probably be fair. There are also some other indications in a set of old rules which may be consulted; viz.

_Prognostics of the Weather._

To be able to ascertain the future changes of the weather, is of infinite use to the farmer and gardener.

Animals are evidently sooner sensible of the ensuing change of the atmosphere than we are, and from their divers appearance, and apparent sensations, we may in many instances determine what changes are likely to take place.

The following maybe set down as general rules, and upon minute observation we shall find them correct.

When the raven is observed early in the morning at a great height in the air, soaring round and round, and uttering a hoarse croaking sound, we may be sure the day will be fine, and may conclude the weather is about to clear and become fair.

The loud and clamorous quackling of ducks, geese, and other water-fowl, is a sign of rain.

Before rain swine appear very uneasy, and rub in the dust, as do cocks and hens.

Before storms kine and also sheep assemble at one corner of the field, and are observed to turn all their heads toward the quarter from whence the wind doth not blow.

The appearance of sea gulls, petrels, or other sea fowl in the inlands, indicates stormy weather.

In fine weather the bat is observed to continue flying about very late of an evening.

In autumn before rain some flies bite, and others become very troublesome, and gnats are more apt to sting.

When flocks of wild geese are observed flying in a westward or southern direction in autumn, it indicates a hard winter.

The floating of gossamer, and its alighting on the rigging of ships, foretels fine weather.

The clamorous croaking of frogs indicates rainy weather.

The appearance of beetles flying about of an evening in summer, indicates that the next day will be fair.

Before rain dogs are apt to grow very sleepy and dull, and to lay all day before the fire.

Before rain moles throw up the earth more than usual.

The appearance of rare foreign birds in this country, such as rollers, hoopoos, &c. indicates hard weather.

When spiders are seen crawling on the walls more than usual, rain will probably ensue.

The much barking of dogs in the night frequently indicates a change in the weather.

When the trees and hedges are very full of berries, it indicates a hard winter.

The abundance of woodseare and honeydew on herbs indicates fair weather, as does floating gossamer.

It is said in Wiltshire, that the dunpickles or moor buzzards alight in great numbers on the downs before rain.

Before storms the missel thrush is observed to sing particularly loud, and to continue so till the commencement of the rain; from which circumstance it is in some places called the storm cock.

It is a sign of rain when pigeons return slowly to the dovehouses.

When bees do not go out as usual, but keep in or about their hives, rain may be expected.

Before wind, swine run squeaking about as though they were mad; which has given rise to the notion that pigs can see the wind.

Before rain the pintados called comebacks squall more than usual; as do peacocks.

The early appearance of woodcocks, snipes, swinepipes, fieldfares, &c. are prognostications of severe winters.

When the dew lies plenteously upon the grass in the evening, the next day will probably be fine; when there is little or no dew, probably wet.

Dr. Forster observes, on the authority of Virgil, “that the blowing about of feathers, or any light substances on the water, is also a sign of rain.”

SPRING.

In the “Indicator” Mr. Leigh Hunt discourses of this beautiful season with his usual grace. He says--

“The spring is now complete. The winds have done their work. The shaken air, well tempered and equalized, has subsided; the genial rains, however thickly they may come, do not saturate the ground, beyond the power of the sun to dry it up again. There are clear crystal mornings; noons of blue sky and white cloud; nights, in which the growing moon seems to lie looking at the stars, like a young shepherdess at her flock.

“Then the young green. This is the most apt and perfect mark of the season,--the true issuing forth of the spring. The trees and bushes are putting forth their crisp fans; the lilac is loaded with bud; the meadows are thick with the bright young grass, running into sweeps of white and gold with the daisies and buttercups. The orchards announce their riches, in a shower of silver blossoms. The earth in fertile woods is spread with yellow and blue carpets of primroses, violets, and hyacinths, over which the birch-trees, like stooping nymphs, hang with their thickening hair. Lilies of the valley, stocks, columbines, lady-smocks, and the intensely red piony which seems to anticipate the full glow of summertime, all come out to wait upon the season, like fairies from their subterraneous palaces.”

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Cowslip. _Primula Veris._
Dedicated to _St. Catharine_ of Sienna.

Then came faire MAY, the fayrest mayd on ground,
Deckt all with dainties of her seasons pryde,
And throwing flow’res out of her lap around:
Upon two brethren’s shoulders she did ride,
The twinnes of Leda; which on either side
Supported her, like to their soveraine Queene.
Lord! how all creatures laught, when her they spide,
And leapt and daunc’t as they had ravisht beene!
And Cupid selfe about her fluttred all in greene.

_Spenser._

So hath “divinest Spenser” represented the fifth month of the year, in the grand pageant which, to all who have seen it, is still present; for neither the laureate’s office nor the poet’s art hath devised a spectacle more gorgeous. Castor and Pollux, “the twinnes of Leda,” who appeared to sailors in storms with lambent fires on their heads, mythologists have constellated in the firmament, and made still propitious to the mariner. Maia, the brightest of the Pleiades, from whom some say this month derived its name, is fabled to have been the daughter of Atlas, the supporter of the world, and Pleione, a sea-nymph. Others ascribe its name to its having been dedicated by Romulus to the Majores, or Roman senators.

Verstegan affirms of the Anglo-Saxons, that “the pleasant moneth of May they termed by the name of _Trimilki_, because in that moneth they began to milke their kine three times in the day.”

Scarcely a poet but praises, or describes, or alludes to the beauties of this month. Darwin sings it as the offspring of the solar beams, and invites it to approach and receive the greetings of the elemental beings:--

Born in yon blaze of orient sky,
Sweet May! thy radiant form unfold;
Unclose thy blue voluptuous eye,
And wave thy shadowy locks of gold.

For thee the fragrant zephyrs blow,
For thee descends the sunny shower;
The rills in softer murmurs flow,
And brighter blossoms gem the bower.

Light Graces dress’d in flowery wreaths,
And tiptoe Joys their hands combine;
And Love his sweet contagion breathes,
And laughing dances round thy shrine.

Warm with new life, the glittering throng
On quivering fin and rustling wing
Delighted join their votive songs,
And hail thee, goddess of the spring.

One of Milton’s richest fancies is of this month; he says, that Adam, discoursing with Eve--

Smil’d with superior love; as Jupiter
On Juno smiles, when he impregns the clouds
That shed May-flowers.

Throughout the wide range of poetic excellence, there is no piece of higher loveliness than his often quoted, yet never tiring

_Song on May Morning._

Now the bright morning star, day’s harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May! that dost inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire;
Woods and groves are of thy dressing,
Hill and dale both boast thy blessing!
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

With exquisite feeling and exuberant grace he derives Mirth from--

The frolic wind that breathes the spring
Zephyr, with Aurora playing
As he met her once a Maying;

and, with beautiful propriety, as regards the season, he makes the scenery

-----beds of violets blue,
And fresh blown roses wash’d in dew.

The first of his “sonnets” is to the nightingale warbling on a “bloomy spray” at eve, while, as he figures,

“The jolly hours lead on propitious May.”

In “a Conversational Poem written in April,” by Mr. Coleridge, there is a description of the nightingale’s song, so splendid that it may take the place of extracts from other poets who have celebrated the charms of the coming month, wherein this bird’s high melody prevails with increasing power:--

All is still,
A balmy night! and tho’ the stars be dim,
Yet let us think upon the vernal showers
That gladden the green earth, and we shall find
A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
And hark? the nightingale begins its song.
He crowds, and hurries, and precipitates
With fast thick warble his delicious notes,
As he were fearful, that an April night
Would be too short for him to utter forth
His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul
Of all its music!
-------I know a grove
Of large extent, hard by a castle huge
Which the great lord inhabits not: and so
This grove is wild with tangling underwood,
And the trim walks are broken up, and grass
Thin grass and king-cups grow within the paths.
But never elsewhere in one place I knew
So many nightingales: and far and near
In wood and thicket over the wide grove
They answer and provoke each other’s songs--
With skirmish and capricious passagings,
And murmurs musical and swift jug jug,
And one low piping sound more sweet than all--
Stirring the air with such a harmony,
That should you close your eyes, you might almost
Forget it was not day! On moonlight bushes,
Whose dewy leafits are but half disclos’d,
You may perchance behold them on the twigs,
Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full
Glist’ning, while many a glow-worm in the shade
Lights up her love-torch.--------
---------Oft, a moment’s space,
What time the moon was lost behind a cloud,
Hath heard a pause of silence: till the moon
Emerging, hath awaken’d earth and sky
With one sensation, and those wakeful birds
Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy,
As if one quick and sudden gale had swept
An hundred airy harps! And I have watch’d
Many a nightingale perch’d giddily
On blos’my twig, still swinging from the breeze,
And to that motion tune his wanton song,
Like tipsy Joy that reels with tossing head.

~May 1.~

_St. Philip_, and _St. James_ the less. _St. Asaph_, Bp. of
Llan-Elway, A. D. 590. _St. Marcon_, or _Marculfus_, A. D. 558. _St.
Sigismund_, king of Burgundy, 6th Cent.

_St. Philip_ and _St. James_.

Philip is supposed to have been the first of Christ’s apostles, and to have died at Hierapolis, in Phrygia. James, also surnamed the Just, whose name is borne by the epistle in the New Testament, and who was in great repute among the Jews, was martyred in a tumult in the temple, about the year 62.[119] St. Philip and St. James are in the church of England Calendar.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Tulip. _Tulipa Gesneri._
Dedicated to _St. Philip_.
Red Campion. _Lychnis dioica rubra._
Red Bachelor’s Buttons. _Lychnis dioica plena._
Dedicated to _St. James_.

~May-Day.~

Hail! sacred thou to sacred joy,
To mirth and wine, sweet first of May!
To sports, which no grave cares alloy,
The sprightly dance, the festive play!

Hail! thou, of ever-circling time
That gracest still the ceaseless flow!
Bright blossom of the season’s prime,
Aye, hastening on to winter’s snow!

When first young Spring his angel face
On earth unveiled, and years of gold,
Gilt with pure ray man’s guileless race,
By law’s stern terrors uncontrolled.

Such was the soft and genial breeze
Mild Zephyr breathed on all around,
With grateful glee, to airs like these
Yielded its wealth th’ unlaboured ground.

So fresh, so fragrant is the gale,
Which o’er the islands of the blest
Sweeps; where nor aches the limbs assail,
Nor age’s peevish pains infest.

Where thy hushed groves, Elysium, sleep,
Such winds with whispered murmurs blow
So, where dull Lethe’s waters creep,
They heave, scarce heave the cypress-bough.

And such, when heaven with penal flame
Shall purge the globe, that golden day
Restoring, o’er man’s brightened frame
Haply such gale again shall play.

Hail! thou, the fleet year’s pride and prime!
Hail! day, which fame shall bid to bloom!
Hail! image of primeval time!
Hail! sample of a world to come!--

_Buchanan, by Langhorne._

In behalf of this ancient festival, a noble authoress contributes a little “forget me not:”--

_The First of May_

Colin met Sylvia on the green,
Once on the charming first of May,
And shepherds ne’er tell false I ween,
Yet ’twas by chance the shepherds say

Colin he bow’d and blush’d, then said,
Will you, sweet maid, this first of May
Begin the dance by Colin led,
To make this quite his holiday?

Sylvia replied, I ne’er from home
Yet ventur’d, till this first of May;
It is not fit for maids to roam,
And make a shepherd’s holiday.

It is most fit, replied the youth,
That Sylvia should this first of May
By me be taught that love and truth
Can make of life a holiday.

_Lady Craven._

“We call,” says Mr. Leigh Hunt--“we call upon the admirers of the good and beautiful to help us in ‘rescuing nature from obloquy.’ All you that are lovers of nature in books,--lovers of music, painting, and poetry,--lovers of sweet sounds, and odours, and colours, and all the eloquent and happy face of the rural world with its eyes of sunshine,--you, that are lovers of your species, of youth, and health, and old age,--of manly strength in the manly, of nymph-like graces in the female,--of air, of exercise, of happy currents in your veins,--of the light in great Nature’s picture,--of all the gentle spiriting, the loveliness, the luxury, that now stands under the smile of heaven, silent and solitary as your fellow-creatures have left it,--go forth on May-day, or on the earliest fine May morning, if that be not fine, and pluck your flowers and your green boughs to adorn your rooms with, and to show that you do not live in vain. These April rains (for May has not yet come, according to the old style, which is the proper one of our climate), these April rains are fetching forth the full luxury of the trees and hedges;--by the next sunshine, all ‘the green weather,’ as a little gladsome child called it, will have come again; the hedges will be so many thick verdant walls, the fields mossy carpets, the trees clothed to their finger-tips with foliage, the birds saturating the woods with song. Come forth, come forth.”[120]

* * * * *

This was the great rural festival of our forefathers. Their hearts responded merrily to the cheerfulness of the season. At the dawn of May morning the lads and lasses left their towns and villages, and repairing to the woodlands by sound of music, they gathered the _May_, or blossomed branches of the trees, and bound them with wreaths of flowers; then returning to their homes by sunrise, they decorated the lattices and doors with the sweet-smelling spoil of their joyous journey, and spent the remaining hours in sports and pastimes. Spenser’s “Shepherd’s Calendar” poetically records these customs in a beautiful eclogue:--

Youths folke now flocken in every where
To gather May-buskets, and smelling breere;
And home they hasten, the postes to dight,
And all the kirke pillers, ere daylight,
With hawthorne buds, and sweet eglantine,
And girlonds of roses, and soppes in wine.

* * * * *

Siker this morrow, no longer ago,
I saw a shole of shepheards outgo
With singing and showting, and jolly cheere;
Before them yode a lustie tabrere,
That to the meynie a hornepipe plaid,
Whereto they dauncen eche one with his maide.
To see these folkes make such jovisaunce,
Made my hart after the pipe to daunce.
Tho’ to the greene-wood they speeden them all,
To fetchen home May with their musicall:
And home they bringen, in a royall throne,
Crowned as king; and his queen attone
Was Ladie Flora, on whom did attend
A faire flock of faeries, and a fresh bend
Of lovely nymphs. O, that I were there
To helpen the ladies their May-bush beare.

Forbear censure, gentle readers and kind hearers, for quotations from poets, they have made the day especially their own; they are its annalists. A poet’s invitation to his mistress to enjoy the festivity, is historical; if he says to her, “together let us range,” he tells her for what; and becomes a grave authority to the grave antiquary. The sweetest of all British bards that sing of our customs, beautifully illustrates the May-day of England:--

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morne
Upon her wings presents the God unshorne.
See how Aurora throwes her faire
Fresh-quilted colours through the aire;
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
The dew bespangling herbe and tree.
Each flower has wept, and bow’d toward the east,
Above an houre since, yet you not drest,
Nay! not so much as out of bed;
When all the birds have matteyns seyd,
And sung their thankfull hymnes; ’tis sin,
Nay, profanation to keep in,
When as a thousand virgins on this day,
Spring sooner then the lark, to fetch in May.

Rise, and put on your foliage, and be seene
To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and greene,
And sweet as Flora. Take no care
For jewels for your gowne or haire;
Feare not, the leaves will strew
Gemms in abundance upon you;
Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls unwept.
Come, and receive them while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night;
And Titan on the eastern hill
Retires himselfe, or else stands still
Till you come forth. Wash, dresse, be brief in praying;
Few beads are best, when once we goe a Maying.

Come, my Corinna, come; and, comming, marke
How each field turns a street, each street a parke
Made green, and trimm’d with trees; see how
Devotion gives each house a bough,
Or branch; each porch, each doore, ere this,
An arke, a tabernacle is,
Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove;
As if here were those cooler shades of love
Can such delights be in the street,
And open fields, and we not see’t?
Come, we’ll abroad, and let’s obay
The proclamation made for May:
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying
But, my Corinna, come, let’s goe a Maying.

There’s not a budding boy or girle, this day,
But is got up, and gone to bring in May.
A deale of youth, ere this, is come
Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
Some have dispatcht their cakes and creame
Before that we have left to dreame;
And some have wept, and woo’d, and plighted troth,
And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:
Many a green gown has been given;
Many a kisse, both odde and even;
Many a glance, too, has been sent
From out the eye, love’s firmament;
Many a jest told of the keye’s betraying
This night, and locks pickt; yet w’are not a Maying.

Come, let us goe, while we are in our prime
And take the harmlesse follie of the time.
We shall grow old apace and die
Before we know our liberty.
Our life is short, and our dayes run
As fast away as do’s the sunne;
And as a vapour, or a drop of raine
Once lost, can ne’r be found againe;
So when or you or I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade;
All love, all liking, all delight
Lies drown’d with us in endless night.
Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying,
Come, my Corinna, come, let’s goe a Maying.

_Herrick._

A gatherer of notices respecting our pastimes says, “The after-part of _May_-day is chiefly spent in dancing round a tall Poll, which is called a May Poll; which being placed in a convenient part of the village, stands there, as it were consecrated to the Goddess of Flowers, without the least violation offer’d to it, in the whole circle of the year.”[121] One who was an implacable enemy to popular sports relates the fetching in of “the May” from the woods. “But,” says he, “their cheefest jewell they bring from thence is their Maie poole, whiche they. bring home with greate veneration, as thus. They have twentie or fourtie yoke of oxen, every oxe havyng a sweete nosegaie of flowers tyed on the tippe of his hornes, and these oxen drawe home this Maie poole, which is covered all over with flowers and hearbes, bounde rounde aboute with stringes, from the top to the bottome, and sometyme painted with variable colours, with twoo or three hundred men, women, and children followyng it, with greate devotion. And thus beyng reared up, with handkerchiefes and flagges streamyng on the toppe, they strawe the grounde aboute, binde greene boughes about it, sett up Sommer haules, Bowers, and Arbours hard by it. And then fall they to banquet and feast, to leape and daunce aboute it, as the Heathen people did at the dedication of their Idolles, whereof this is a perfect patterne, or rather the thyng itself.”[122]

The May-pole is up,
Now give me the cup;
I’ll drink to the garlands around it;
But first unto those
Whose hands did compose
The glory of flowers that crown’d it.

_Herrick._

Another poet, and therefore no opponent to homely mirth on this festal day, so describes part of its merriment as to make a beautiful picture:--

I have seen _the Lady of the May_
_Set in an arbour_ (on a holy-day)
_Built by the May-pole, where the jocund swaines_
_Dance with the maidens_ to the bag-pipe’s straines,
When envious night commands them to be gone,
Call for the merry youngsters one by one,
And, for their well performance, soon disposes,
To this a garland interwove with roses,
To that a carved hooke, or well-wrought scrip;
Gracing another with her cherry lip;
To one her garter; to another, then,
A handkerchiefe, cast o’er and o’er again;
And none returneth emptie that hath spent
His paines to fill their rural merriment.

_Browne’s Pastorals._

A poet, who has not versified, (Mr. Washington Irving,) says, “I shall never forget the delight I felt on first seeing a May-pole. It was on the banks of the Dee, close by the picturesque old bridge that stretches across the river from the quaint little city of Chester. I had already been carried back into former days by the antiquities of that venerable place; the examination of which is equal to turning over the pages of a black-letter volume, or gazing on the pictures in Froissart. The May-pole on the margin of that poetic stream completed the illusion. My fancy adorned it with wreaths of flowers, and peopled the green bank with all the dancing revelry of May-day. The mere sight of this May-pole gave a glow to my feelings, and spread a charm over the country for the rest of the day; and as I traversed a part of the fair plains of Cheshire, and the beautiful borders of Wales, and looked from among swelling hills down a long green valley, through which ‘the Deva wound its wizard stream,’ my imagination turned all into a perfect Arcadia.--One can readily imagine what a gay scene it must have been in jolly old London, when the doors were decorated with flowering branches, when every hat was decked with hawthorn; and Robin Hood, friar Tuck, Maid Marian, the morris-dancers, and all the other fantastic masks and revellers were performing their antics about the May-pole in every part of the city. On this occasion we are told Robin Hood presided as Lord of the May:--

“With coat of Lincoln green, and mantle too,
And horn of ivory mouth, and buckle bright,
And arrows winged with peacock-feathers light,
And trusty bow well gathered of the yew;

“whilst near him, crowned as Lady of the May, maid Marian,

“With eyes of blue,
Shining through dusk hair, like the stars of night,
And habited in pretty forest plight--
His green-wood beauty sits, young as the dew:

“and there, too, in a subsequent stage of the pageant, were

“The archer-men in green, with belt and bow,
Feasting on pheasant, river-fowl, and swan,
With Robin at their head, and Marian.

“I value every custom that tends to infuse poetical feeling into the common people, and to sweeten and soften the rudeness of rustic manners, without destroying their simplicity. Indeed it is to the decline of this happy simplicity that the decline of this custom may be traced; and the rural dance on the green, and the homely May-day pageant, have gradually disappeared, in proportion as the peasantry have become expensive and artificial in their pleasures, and too knowing for simple enjoyment. Some attempts, indeed, have been made of late years, by men of both taste and learning, to rally back the popular feeling to these standards of primitive simplicity; but the time has gone by, the feeling has become chilled by habits of gain and traffic; the country apes the manners and amusements of the town, and little is heard of May-day at present, except from the lamentations of authors, who sigh after it from among the brick walls of the city.”

* * * * *

There will be opportunity in the course of this work to dilate somewhat concerning the May-pole and the characters in the May-games, and therefore little will be adduced at present as to the origin of pastimes, which royalty itself delighted in, and corporations patronized. For example of these honours to the festal day, an honest gatherer of older chronicles shall relate in his own words, so much as he acquaints us with:--

“In the moneth of May, namely on May day in the morning, every man, except impediment, would walke into the sweet meddowes and green woods, there to rejoyce their spirits with the beauty and savour of sweet flowers, and with the harmonie of birds, praising God in their kinde. And for example hereof, Edward Hall hath noted, that king Henry the eighth, as in the third of his reigne, and divers other yeeres, so namely in the seventh of his reigne, on May day in the morning, with queene Katharine his wife, accompanied with many lords and ladies, rode a Maying from Greenwich to the high ground of Shooters-hill: where as they passed by the way, they espyed a company of tall yeomen, clothed all in greene, with greene hoods, and with bowes and arrowes, to the number of 200. One, being their chieftaine, was called Robin Hood, who required the king and all his company to stay and see his men shoot: whereunto the king granting, Robin Hood whistled, and all the 200 archers shot off, loosing all at once; and when he whistled againe, they likewise shot againe: their arrows whistled by craft of the head, so that the noise was strange and loud, which greatly delighted the king, queene, and their company.

“Moreover, this Robin Hood desired the king and queene, with their retinue, to enter the greene wood, where, in arbours made of boughes, and deckt with flowers, they were set and served plentifully with venison and wine, by Robin Hood and his meyny, to their great contentment, and had other pageants and pastimes; as yee may read in my said author.

“I find also, that in the month of May, the citizens of London (of all estates) lightly in every parish, or sometimes two or three parishes joyning together, had their severall Mayings, and did fetch in May-poles, with divers warlike shewes, with good archers, morice-dancers, and other devises for pastime all the day long; and towards the evening, they had stage-plaies, and bonefires in the streets.

“Of these Mayings, we read in the reign of Henry the sixth, that the aldermen and sheriffes of London, being on May day at the bishop of Londons wood in the parish of Stebunheath, and having there a worshipfull dinner for themselves and other commers, Lydgate the poet, that was a monk of Bury, sent to them by a pursivant a joyfull commendation of that season, containing sixteene staves in meeter royall, beginning thus:--

“Mighty Flora, goddesse of fresh flowers,
which clothed hath the soyle in lusty green,
Made buds to spring, with her sweet showers,
by influence of the sunne shine,
To doe pleasance of intent full cleane,
unto the states which now sit here,
Hath Ver downe seat her own daughter deare,

“Making the vertue, that dured in the root,
Called the vertue, the vertue vegetable,
for to transcend, most wholesome and most soote,
Into the top, this season so agreeable:
the bawmy liquor is so commendable,
That it rejoyceth with his fresh moisture,
man, beast, and fowle, and every creature,” &c.

Thus far hath our London historian conceived it good for his fellow citizens to know.

* * * * *

Of the manner wherein a May game was anciently set forth, he who above all writers contemporary with him could best devise it has “drawn out the platform,” and exhibited the pageant, as performed by the household servants and dependants of a baronial mansion in the fifteenth century. This is the scene:--“In the front of the pavilion, a large square was staked out, and fenced with ropes, to prevent the crowd from pressing upon the performers, and interrupting the diversion; there were also two bars at the bottom of the inclosure, through which the actors might pass and repass, as occasion required.--_Six young men_ first entered the square, clothed in jerkins of leather, with axes upon their shoulders like woodmen, and their heads bound with large garlands of ivy-leaves, intertwined with sprigs of hawthorn. Then followed _six young maidens_ of the village, dressed in blue kirtles, with garlands of primroses on their heads, leading a fine sleek cow decorated with ribbons of various colours, interspersed with flowers; and the horns of the animal were tipped with gold. These were succeeded by _six foresters_, equipped in green tunics, with hoods and hosen of the same colour; each of them carried a bugle-horn attached to a baldrick of silk, which he sounded as he passed the barrier. After them came Peter Lanaret, the baron’s chief falconer, who personified _Robin Hood_, he was attired in a bright grass-green tunic, fringed with gold; his hood and his hosen were parti-coloured, blue and white; he had a large garland of rosebuds on his head, a bow bent in his hand, a sheaf of arrows at his girdle, and a bugle-horn depending from a baldrick of light blue tarantine, embroidered with silver; he had also a sword and a dagger, the hilts of both being richly embossed with gold.--Fabian, a page, as _Little John_, walked at his right hand; and Cecil Cellerman the butler, as _Will Stukely_, at his left. These, with ten others of the jolly outlaw’s attendants who followed, were habited in green garments, bearing their bows bent in their hands, and their arrows in their girdles. Then came _two maidens_, in orange-coloured kirtles with white courtpies, strewing flowers, followed immediately by the _Maid Marian_, elegantly habited in a watchet-coloured tunic reaching to the ground; over which she wore a white linen rochet with loose sleeves, fringed with silver, and very neatly plaited; her girdle was of silver baudekin, fastened with a double bow on the left side; her long flaxen hair was divided into many ringlets, and flowed upon her shoulders; the top part of her head was covered with a net-work cawl of gold, upon which was placed a garland of silver, ornamented with blue violets. She was supported by _two bride-maidens_, in sky-coloured rochets girt with crimson girdles, wearing garlands upon their heads of blue and white violets. After them came _four other females_ in green courtpies, and garlands of violets and cowslips. Then Sampson the smith, as _Friar Tuck_, carrying a huge quarter-staff on his shoulder; and Morris the mole-taker, who represented _Much_ the miller’s son, having a long pole with an inflated bladder attached to one end. And after them the _May-pole_, drawn by eight fine oxen, decorated with scarfs, ribbons, and flowers of divers colours; and the tips of their horns were embellished with gold. The rear was closed by the _hobby-horse_ and the _dragon_.--When the May-pole was drawn into the square, the foresters sounded their horns, and the populace expressed their pleasure by shouting incessantly until it reached the place assigned for its elevation:--and during the time the ground was preparing for its reception, the barriers of the bottom of the inclosure were opened for the villagers to approach, and adorn it with ribbons, garlands, and flowers, as their inclination prompted them.--The pole being sufficiently onerated with finery, the square was cleared from such as had no part to perform in the pageant; and then it was elevated amidst the reiterated acclamations of the spectators. The _woodmen_ and the _milk-maidens_ danced around it according to the rustic fashion; the measure was played by Peretto Cheveritte, the baron’s chief minstrel, on the _bagpipes_, accompanied with the pipe and tabour, performed by one of his associates. When the dance was finished, Gregory the jester, who undertook to play the _hobby-horse_, came forward with his appropriate equipment, and, frisking up and down the square without restriction, imitated the galloping, curvetting, ambling, trotting, and other paces of a horse, to the infinite satisfaction of the lower classes of the spectators. He was followed by Peter Parker, the baron’s ranger, who personated a _dragon_, hissing, yelling, and shaking his wings with wonderful ingenuity; and to complete the mirth, Morris, in the character of _Much_, having small bells attached to his knees and elbows, capered here and there between the two monsters in the form of a dance; and as often as he came near to the sides of the inclosure, he cast slily a handful of meal into the faces of the gaping rustics, or rapped them about their heads with the bladder tied at the end of his pole. In the mean time, Sampson, representing Friar Tuck, walked with much gravity around the square, and occasionally let fall his heavy staff upon the toes of such of the crowd as he thought were approaching more forward than they ought to do; and if the sufferers cried out from the sense of pain, he addressed them in a solemn tone of voice, advising them to count their beads, say a paternoster or two, and to beware of purgatory. These vagaries were highly palatable to the populace, who announced their delight by repeated plaudits and loud bursts of laughter; for this reason they were continued for a considerable length of time: but Gregory, beginning at last to faulter in his paces, ordered the dragon to fall back: the well-nurtured beast, being out of breath, readily obeyed, and their two companions followed their example; which concluded this part of the pastime.--Then the _archers_ set up a target at the lower part of the green, and made trial of their skill in a regular succession. Robin Hood and Will Stukely excelled their comrades; and both of them lodged an arrow in the centre circle of gold, so near to each other that the difference could not readily be decided, which occasioned them to shoot again; when Robin struck the gold a second time, and Stukely’s arrow was affixed upon the edge of it. Robin was therefore adjudged the conqueror; and the prize of honour, a garland of laurel embellished with variegated ribbons, was put upon his head; and to Stukely was given a garland of ivy, because he was the second best performer in that contest.--The pageant was finished with the archery; and the procession began to move away to make room for the villagers, who afterwards assembled in the square, and amused themselves by dancing round the May-pole in promiscuous companies, according to the antient custom.”[123] It is scarcely possible to give a better general idea of the regular May-game, than as it has been here represented.

* * * * *

Of the English May-pole this may be observed. An author before cited says, that “at the north-west corner of _Aldgate_ ward in _Leadenhall-street_, standeth the fair and beautiful parish church of St. Andrew the apostle, with an addition, to be known from other churches of that name, of the _knape_, or _undershaft_, and so called _St. Andrew Undershaft_, because that of old time, every year (on May-day in the morning,) it was used, that a high or long shaft, or _May-pole_, was set up there, in the midst of the street, before the south door of the said church, which shaft or pole, when it was set on end, and fixed in the ground, was _higher than the church steeple_. Jeffrey Chaucer, writing of a vain boaster, hath these words, meaning of the said shaft:--

“Right well aloft, and high ye bear your head,

* * * * *

As ye would bear the great shaft of Corn-hill.

“This shaft was not raised any time since evil May-day, (so called of an insurrection being made by prentices, and other young persons against aliens, in the year 1517,) but the said shaft was laid along over the doors, and under the pentices of one rowe of houses, and Alley-gate, called of the shaft, _Shaft-alley_, (being of the possessions of Rochester-bridge,) in the ward of Lime-street.--It was there, I say, hanged on iron hooks many years, till the third of king Edward the sixth, (1552), that one sir Stephen, curate of St. Katherine Christ’s church, preaching at Paul’s Cross, said there, that this shaft was made an idoll, by naming the church of St. Andrew with the addition of Undershaft; he perswaded, therefore, that the names of churches might be altered.--This sermon at Paul’s Cross took such effect, that in the afternoon of that present Sunday, the neighbors and tenants to the said bridge, over whose doors the said shaft had lain, after they had dined (to make themselves strong,) gathered more help, and, with great labor, raising the shaft from the hooks, (whereon it had rested two-and-thirty years,) they sawed it in pieces, every man taking for his share so much as had lain over his door and stall, the length of his house; and they of the alley, divided amongst them, so much as had lain over their alley-gate. Thus was his idoll (as he termed it,) mangled, and after burned.”[124]

It was a great object with some of the more rigid among our early reformers, to suppress amusements, especially May-poles; and these “idols” of the people were got down as zeal grew fierce, and got up as it grew cool, till, after various ups and downs, the favourites of the populace were, by the parliament, on the 6th of April, 1644, thus provided against: “The lords and commons do further order and ordain, that all and singular _May-poles_, that are or shall be erected, shall be taken down, and removed by the constables, bossholders, tithing-men, petty constables, and churchwardens of the parishes, where the same be, and that no May-pole be hereafter set up, erected, or suffered to be set up within this kingdom of England, or dominion of Wales; the said officers to be fined five shillings weekly till the said May-pole be taken down.”

Accordingly down went all the May-poles that were left. A famous one in the Strand, which had ten years before been sung in lofty metre, appears to have previously fallen. The poet says,--

Fairly we marched on, till our approach
Within the spacious passage of the Strand,
Objected to our sight a summer broach,
Ycleap’d a May Pole, which in all our land,
No city, towne, nor streete, can parralell,
Nor can the lofty spire of Clarken-well,
Although we have the advantage of a rocke,
Pearch up more high his turning weather-cock.

Stay, quoth my Muse, and here behold a signe
Of harmelesse mirth and honest neighbourhood,
Where all the parish did in one combine
To mount the rod of peace, and none withstood:
When no capritious constables disturb them,
Nor justice of the peace did seek to curb them,
Nor peevish puritan, in rayling sort,
Nor over-wise church-warden, spoyl’d the sport.

Happy the age, and harmlesse were the dayes,
(For then true love and amity was found,)
When every village did a May Pole raise,
And Whitson-ales and MAY-GAMES did abound:
And all the lusty yonkers, in a rout,
With merry lasses daunc’d the rod about,
Then Friendship to their banquets bid the guests,
And poore men far’d the better for their feasts.

The lords of castles, mannors, townes, and towers,
Rejoic’d when they beheld the farmer’s flourish,
And would come downe unto the summer-bowers
To see the country gallants dance the Morrice.

* * * * *

But since the SUMMER POLES _were overthrown_,
And all good sports and merriments decay’d,
How times and men are chang’d, so well is knowne,
It were but labour lost if more were said.

* * * * *

But I doe hope once more the day will come,
That you shall mount and pearch your cocks as high
As ere you did, and that the pipe and drum
Shall bid defiance to your enemy;
And that all fidlers, which in corners lurke,
And have been almost starv’d for want of worke,
Shall draw their crowds, and, at your exaltation,
Play many a fit of merry recreation.[125]