Now the rose receives its birth,
And pretty primrose1 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 ornamented2 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 hawthorn3, 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 delightful4 confusion. The servants were all agog5 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 fragrant6 blossoms, the bee hummed about every bank, and the swallow played high in the air about the village steeple. It was one of those genial7 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 worthy8 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 bower10 of green branches and flowers for the Queen of May, a fresh, rosy-cheeked girl of the village.
A band of morris-dancers were capering11 on the green in their fantastic dresses, jingling12 with hawks13' bells, with a boy dressed up as Maid Marian, and the attendant fool rattling15 his box to collect contributions from the bystanders. The gipsy women, too, were already plying16 their mystery in by-corners of the village, reading the hands of the simple country girls, and no doubt promising17 them all good husbands and tribes of children.
The squire18 made his appearance in the course of the morning, attended by the parson, and was received with loud acclamations. He mingled19 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 revels20 to the village. He was bustling21 about with the perplexed22 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 politic23 intrigue24, 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 opposition25 from a faction26 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 rustic27 beauty that has found favour in his eyes. In the course of the day there were various games of strength and agility28 on the green, at which a knot of village veterans presided, as judges of the lists. Among those I perceived that Ready-Money Jack29 took the lead, looking with a learned and critical eye on the merits of the different candidates; and though he was very laconic30, and sometimes merely expressed himself by a nod, yet it was evident that his opinions far outweighed31 those of the most loquacious32.
May-Day Queen
Young Jack Tibbets was the hero of the day, and carried off most of the prizes, though in some of the feats33 of agility he was rivalled by the "prodigal34 son," who appeared much in his element on this occasion; but his most formidable competitor was the notorious gipsy, the redoubtable35 "Starlight Tom." I was rejoiced at having an opportunity of seeing this "minion36 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 graceful37 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 buxom38 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 mischievously39 with them, and, if bantered40 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 wink41 hard when Master Simon had passed.
The harmony of the day, however, had nearly at one time been interrupted by the appearance of the radical42 on the ground, with two or three of his disciples43. He soon got engaged in argument in the very thick of the throng44, 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 decrying45 these idle nonsensical amusements in times of public distress46, when it was every one's business to think of other matters, and to be miserable47. 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 orator48. The latter, however, was no respecter of persons, but rather seemed to exult49 in having such important antagonists50. He talked with greater volubility than ever, and soon drowned them with declamation51 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 brook52, and looked like a mighty53 Dutch Indiaman grievously peppered by a petty privateer. It was in vain that he swelled54 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 wheeze55 like a bellows56, and seemed to let a volume of wind out of him. In a word, the two worthies57 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 retired58 with great expression of contempt, and as soon as his back was turned, the argument was carried against him all hollow.
The General Nonplussed
"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 undertaking59. At length, as the party from the Hall approached her bower, she came forth60,
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