 | Twice-told tales |  |
THE MAY-POLE OF MERRY
MOUNT.
THE MAY-POLE OF MERRY
MOUNT.
There is an admirable foundation for a philosophic romance, in the
curious history of the early settlement of Mount Wollaston, or Merry
Mount. In the slight sketch here attempted, the facts, recorded on the
grave pages of our New England annalists, have wrought themselves, almost
spontaneously, into a sort of allegory. The masques, mummeries, and
festive customs, described in the text, are in accordance with the manners
of the age. Authority, on these points may be found in Strutt's Book of
English Sports and Pastimes.
Bright were the days at Merry Mount, when the
May-Pole was the banner-staff of that gay colony!
They who reared it, should their banner be triumphant,
were to pour sun-shine over New England's rugged
hills, and scatter flower-seeds throughout the soil.
Jollity and gloom were contending for an empire.
Midsummer eve had come, bringing deep verdure to
the forest, and roses in her lap, of a more vivid hue
than the tender buds of Spring. But May, or her
Mount, sporting with the Summer months, and revelling
with Autumn, and basking in the glow of Winter's
fireside. Through a world of toil and care, she flitted
with a dreamlike smile, and came hither to find a
home among the lightsome hearts of Merry Mount.
Never had the May-Pole been so gaily decked as at
sunset on midsummer eve. This venerated emblem
was a pine tree, which had preserved the slender grace
of youth, while it equalled the loftiest height of the
old wood monarchs. From its top streamed a silken
banner, colored like the rainbow. Down nearly to
the ground, the pole was dressed with birchen boughs,
and others of the liveliest green, and some with silvery
leaves, fastened by ribbons that fluttered in fantastic
knots of twenty different colors, but no sad ones.
Garden flowers, and blossoms of the wilderness, laughed
gladly forth amid the verdure, so fresh and dewy,
that they must have grown by magic on that happy
pine tree. Where this green and flowery splendor
terminated, the shaft of the May-Pole was stained with
the seven brilliant hues of the banner at its top. On
the lowest green bough hung an abundant wreath of
roses, some that had been gathered in the sunniest
spots of the forest, and others, of still richer blush,
which the colonists had reared from English seed.
Oh, people of the Golden Age, the chief of your husbandry,
was to raise flowers!
But what was the wild throng that stood hand in
Fauns and Nymphs, when driven from their classic
groves and homes of ancient fable, had sought refuge,
as all the persecuted did, in the fresh woods of the
West. These were Gothic monsters, though perhaps
of Grecian ancestry. On the shoulders of a comely
youth, uprose the head and branching antlers of a
stag; a second, human in all other points, had the
grim visage of a wolf; a third, still with the trunk and
limbs of a mortal man, showed the beard and horns of
a venerable he-goat. There was the likeness of a
bear erect, brute in all but his hind legs, which were
adorned with pink silk stockings. And here again,
almost as wondrous, stood a real bear of the dark
forest, lending each of his fore paws to the grasp of a
human hand, and as ready for the dance as any in that
circle. His inferior nature rose half-way, to meet
his companions as they stooped. Other faces wore
the similitude of man or woman, but distorted or
extravagant, with red noses pendulous before their
mouths, which seemed of awful depth, and stretched
from ear to ear in an eternal fit of laughter. Here
might be seen the Salvage Man, well known in heraldry,
hairy as a baboon, and girdled with green leaves.
By his side, a nobler figure, but still a counterfeit,
appeared an Indian hunter, with feathery crest and
wampum belt. Many of this strange company wore
fools-caps, and had little bells appended to their garments,
tinkling with a silvery sound, responsive to the
and maidens were of soberer garb, yet well maintained
their places in the irregular throng, by the expression
of wild revelry upon their features. Such were the
colonists of Merry Mount, as they stood in the broad
smile of sunset, round their venerated May-Pole.
Had a wanderer, bewildered in the melancholy
forest, heard their mirth, and stolen a half-affrighted
glance, he might have fancied them the crew of
Comus, some already transformed to brutes, some
midway between man and beast, and the others rioting
in the flow of tipsy jollity that foreran the change.
But a band of Puritans, who watched the scene, invisible
themselves, compared the masques to those devils
and ruined souls, with whom their superstition peopled
the black wilderness.
Within the ring of monsters, appeared the two airiest
forms, that had ever trodden on any more solid
footing than a purple and golden cloud. One was a
youth, in glistening apparel, with a scarf of the rainbow
pattern crosswise on his breast. His right hand
held a gilded staff, the ensign of high dignity among
the revellers, and his left grasped the slender fingers
of a fair maiden, not less gaily decorated than himself.
Bright roses glowed in contrast with the dark and
glossy curls of each, and were scattered round their
feet, or had sprung up spontaneously there. Behind
this lightsome couple, so close to the May-Pole that its
boughs shaded his jovial face, stood the figure of an
flowers, in Heathen fashion, and wearing a chaplet of
the native vine leaves. By the riot of his rolling eye,
and the pagan decorations of his holy garb, he seemed
the wildest monster there, and the very Comus of the
crew.
`Votaries of the May-Pole,' cried the flower-decked
priest, `merrily, all day long, have the woods echoed to
your mirth. But be this your merriest hour, my hearts!
Lo, here stand the Lord and Lady of the May, whom I,
a clerk of Oxford, and high-priest of Merry Mount, am
presently to join in holy matrimony. Up with your
nimble spirits, ye morrice-dancers, green men, and gleemaidens,
bears and wolves, and horned gentlemen!
Come; a chorus now, rich with the old mirth of Merry
England, and the wilder glee of this fresh forest; and
then a dance, to show the youthful pair what life is made
of, and how airily they should go through it! All
ye that love the May-Pole, lend your voices to the
nuptial song of the Lord and Lady of the May!'
This wedlock was more serious than most affairs of
Merry Mount, where jest and delusion, trick and fantasy,
kept up a continual carnival. The Lord and Lady of
the May, though their titles must be laid down at sunset,
were really and truly to be partners for the dance of
life, beginning the measure that same bright eve. The
wreath of roses, that hung from the lowest green bough
of the May-Pole, had been twined for them, and would
be thrown over both their heads, in symbol of their
a riotous uproar burst from the rout of monstrous
figures.
`Begin you the stave, reverend Sir,' cried they all;
`and never did the woods ring to such a merry peal, as
we of the May-Pole shall send up!'
Immediately a prelude of pipe, cittern, and viol,
touched with practised minstrelsy, began to play from a
neighboring thicket, in such a mirthful cadence, that the
boughs of the May-Pole quivered to the sound. But
the May Lord, he of the gilded staff, chancing to look
into his Lady's eyes, was wonderstruck at the almost
pensive glance that met his own.
`Edith, sweet Lady of the May,' whispered he, reproachfully,
`is yon wreath of roses a garland to hang
above our graves, that you look so sad? Oh, Edith, this
is our golden time! Tarnish it not by any pensive
shadow of the mind; for it may be, that nothing of
futurity will be brighter than the mere remembrance
of what is now passing.'
`That was the very thought that saddened me! How
came it in your mind too?' said Edith, in a still lower
tone than he; for it was high treason to be sad at Merry
Mount. `Therefore do I sigh amid this festive music.
And besides, dear Edgar, I struggle as with a dream,
and fancy that these shapes of our jovial friends are
visionary, and their mirth unreal, and that we are no
true Lord and Lady of the May. What is the mystery
in my heart?'
Just then, as if a spell had loosened them, down came
a little shower of withering rose leaves from the May-Pole.
Alas, for the young lovers! No sooner had
their hearts glowed with real passion, than they were
sensible of something vague and unsubstantial in their
former pleasures, and felt a dreary presentiment of
inevitable change. From the moment that they truly
loved, they had subjected themselves to earth's doom
of care, and sorrow, and troubled joy, and had no
more a home at Merry Mount. That was Edith's
mystery. Now leave we the priest to marry them,
and the masquers to sport round the May-Pole, till the
last sunbeam be withdrawn from its summit, and the
shadows of the forest mingle gloomily in the dance.
Meanwhile, we may discover who these gay people
were.
Two hundred years ago, and more, the old world and
its inhabitants became mutually weary of each other.
Men voyaged by thousands to the West; some to barter
glass beads, and such like jewels, for the furs of the
Indian hunter; some to conquer virgin empires; and
one stern band to pray. But none of these motives
had much weight with the colonists of Merry Mount.
Their leaders were men who had sported so long with
life, that when Thought and Wisdom came, even these
unwelcome guests were led astray, by the crowd of
vanities which they should have put to flight. Erring
Thought and perverted Wisdom were made to put on
masques, and play the fool. The men of whom we
wild philosophy of pleasure, and came hither to act
out their latest day-dream. They gathered followers
from all that giddy tribe, whose whole life is like
the festal days of soberer men. In their train were
minstrels, not unknown in London streets; wandering
players, whose theatres had been the halls of noblemen;
mummers, rope-dancers, and mountebanks, who
would long be missed at wakes, church-ales, and
fairs; in a word, mirth-markers of every sort, such as
abounded in that age, but now began to be discountenanced
by the rapid growth of Puritanism. Light
had their footsteps been on land, and as lightly they
came across the sea. Many had been maddened by
their previous troubles into a gay despair; others were
as madly gay in the flush of youth, like the May Lord
and his Lady; but whatever might be the quality of
their mirth, old and young were gay at Merry Mount.
The young deemed themselves happy. The elder
spirits, if they knew that mirth was but the counterfeit
of happiness, yet followed the false shadow wilfully,
because at least her garments glittered brightest.
Sworn triflers of a life-time, they would not venture
among the sober truths of life, not even to be truly
blest.
All the hereditary pastimes of Old England were
transplanted hither. The King of Christmas was duly
crowned, and the Lord of Misrule bore potent sway.
On the eve of Saint John, they felled whole acres of
all night, crowned with garlands, and throwing flowers
into the flame. At harvest time, though their crop
was of the smallest, they made an image with the
sheaves of Indian corn, and wreathed it with autumnal
garlands, and bore it home triumphantly. But what
chiefly characterized the colonists of Merry Mount,
was their veneration for the May-Pole. It has made
their true history a poet's tale. Spring decked the
hallowed emblem with young blossoms and fresh green
boughs; Summer brought roses of the deepest blush,
and the perfected foliage of the forest; Autumn enriched
it with that red and yellow gorgeousness, which
converts each wild-wood leaf into a painted flower;
and Winter silvered it with sleet, and hung it round
with icicles, till it flashed in the cold sunshine, itself
a frozen sunbeam. Thus each alternate season did
homage to the May-Pole, and paid it a tribute of its
own richest splendor. Its votaries danced round it,
once, at least, in every month; sometimes they called
it their religion, or their altar; but always, it was the
banner-staff of Merry Mount.
Unfortunately, there were men in the new world, of
a sterner faith than these May-Pole worshipers. Not
far from Merry Mount was a settlement of Puritans,
most dismal wretches, who said their prayers before
daylight, and then wrought in the forest or the cornfield,
till evening made it prayer time again. Their
weapons were always at hand, to shoot down the
never to keep up the old English mirth, but to hear
sermons three hours long, or to proclaim bounties on
the heads of wolves and the scalps of Indians. Their
festivals were fast-days, and their chief pastime the
singing of psalms. Woe to the youth or maiden, who
did but dream of a dance! The selectman nodded to
the constable; and there sat the light-heeled reprobate
in the stocks; or if he danced, it was round the
whipping-post, which might be termed the Puritan
May-Pole.
A party of these grim Puritans, toiling through the
difficult woods, each with a horse-load of iron armor
to burthen his footsteps, would sometimes draw near
the sunny precincts of Merry Mount. There were the
silken colonists, sporting round their May-Pole; perhaps
teaching a bear to dance, or striving to communicate
their mirth to the grave Indian; or masquerading
in the skins of deer and wolves, which they had hunted
for that especial purpose. Often, the whole colony
were playing at blindman's buff, magistrates and all
with their eyes bandaged, except a single scape-goat,
whom the blinded sinners pursued by the tinkling of
the bells at his garments. Once, it is said, they were
seen following a flower-decked corpse, with merriment
and festive music, to his grave. But did the dead
man laugh? In their quietest times, they sang ballads
and told tales, for the edification of their pious visiters;
or perplexed them with juggling tricks; or grinned at
wearisome, they made game of their own stupidity,
and began a yawning match. At the very least of
these enormities, the men of iron shook their heads
and frowned so darkly, that the revellers looked up,
imagining that a momentary cloud had overcast the
sunshine, which was to be perpetual there. On the
other hand, the Puritans affirmed, that, when a psalm
was pealing from their place of worship, the echo,
which the forest sent them back, seemed often like the
chorus of a jolly catch, closing with a roar of laughter.
Who but the fiend, and his bond-slaves, the crew of
Merry Mount, had thus disturbed them! In due time,
a feud arose, stern and bitter on one side, and as
serious on the other as any thing could be, among
such light spirits as had sworn allegiance to the May-Pole.
The future complexion of New England was
involved in this important quarrel. Should the grisly
saints establish their jurisdiction over the gay sinners,
then would their spirits darken all the clime, and make
it a land of clouded visages, of hard toil, of sermon
and psalm, for ever. But should the banner-staff of
Merry Mount be fortunate, sunshine would break upon
the hills, and flowers would beautify the forest, and
late posterity do homage to the May-Pole!
After these authentic passages from history, we
return to the nuptials of the Lord and Lady of the
May. Alas! we have delayed too long, and must
darken our tale too suddenly. As we glance again
the summit, and leaves only a faint golden tinge,
blended with the hues of the rainbow banner. Even
that dim light is now withdrawn, relinquishing the
whole domain of Merry Mount to the evening gloom,
which has rushed so instantaneously from the black
surrounding woods. But some of these black shadows
have rushed forth in human shape.
Yes: with the setting sun, the last day of mirth had
passed from Merry Mount. The ring of gay masquers
was disordered and broken; the stag lowered his antlers
in dismay; the wolf grew weaker than a lamb;
the bells of the morrice-dancers tinkled with tremulous
affright. The Puritans had played a characteristic
part in the May-Pole mummeries. Their darksome
figures were intermixed with the wild shapes of their
foes, and made the scene a picture of the moment,
when waking thoughts start up amid the scattered
fantasies of a dream. The leader of the hostile party
stood in the centre of the circle, while the rout of
monsters cowered around him, like evil spirits in the
presence of a dread magician. No fantastic foolery
could look him in the face. So stern was the energy
of his aspect, that the whole man, visage, frame, and
soul, seemed wrought of iron, gifted with life and
thought, yet all of one substance with his head-piece
and breast-plate. It was the Puritan of Puritans; it
was Endicott himself!
`Stand off, priest of Baal!' said he, with a grim
`I know thee, Blackstone!* Thou art the man, who
couldst not abide the rule even of thine own corrupted
church, and hast come hither to preach iniquity, and
to give example of it in thy life. But now shall it be
seen that the Lord hath sanctified this wilderness for
his peculiar people. Woe unto them that would defile
it! And first, for this flower-decked abomination, the
altar of thy worship!'
And with his keen sword, Endicott assaulted the
hallowed May-Pole. Nor long did it resist his arm.
It groaned with a dismal sound; it showered leaves
and rose-buds upon the remorseless enthusiast; and
finally, with all its green boughs, and ribbons, and
flowers, symbolic of departed pleasures, down fell the
banner-staff of Merry Mount. As it sank, tradition
says, the evening sky grew darker, and the woods
threw forth a more sombre shadow.
`There,' cried Endicott, looking triumphantly on
his work, `there lies the only May-Pole in New-England!
The thought is strong within me, that, by
its fall, is shadowed forth the fate of light and idle
mirth-makers, amongst us and our posterity. Amen,
saith John Endicott!'
`Amen!' echoed his followers.
But the votaries of the May-Pole gave one groan
for their idol. At the sound, the Puritan leader
glanced at the crew of Comus, each a figure of broad
mirth, yet, at this moment, strangely expressive of
sorrow and dismay.
`Valiant captain,' quoth Peter Palfrey, the Ancient
of the band, `what order shall be taken with the prisoners?”
`I thought not to repent me of cutting down a May-Pole,'
replied Endicott, `yet now I could find in my
heart to plant it again, and give each of these bestial
pagans one other dance round their idol. It would
have served rarely for a whipping-post!'
`But there are pine trees enow,' suggested the lieutenant.
`True, good Ancient,' said the leader. `Wherefore,
bind the heathen crew, and bestow on them a
small matter of stripes apiece, as earnest of our future
justice. Set some of the rogues in the stocks to rest
themselves, so soon as Providence shall bring us to
one of our own well-ordered settlements, where such
accommodations may be found. Further penalties,
such as branding and cropping of ears, shall be thought
of hereafter.'
`How many stripes for the priest?' inquired Ancient
Palfrey.
`None as yet,' answered Endicott, bending his iron
frown upon the culprit. `It must be for the Great and
General Court to determine, whether stripes and long
for his transgressions. Let him look to himself! For
such as violate our civil order, it may be permitted us
to show mercy. But woe to the wretch that troubleth
our religion!'
`And this dancing bear,' resumed the officer. `Must
he share the stripes of his fellows?'
`Shoot him through the head!' said the energetic
Puritan. `I suspect witchcraft in the beast.'
`Here be a couple of shining ones,' continued Peter
Palfrey, pointing his weapon at the Lord and Lady of
the May. `They seem to be of high station among
these misdoers. Methinks their dignity will not be
fitted with less than a double share of stripes.'
Endicott rested on his sword, and closely surveyed
the dress and aspect of the hapless pair. There they
stood, pale, downcast, and apprehensive. Yet there
was an air of mutual support, and of pure affection,
seeking aid and giving it, that showed them to be man
and wife, with the sanction of a priest upon their love.
The youth, in the peril of the moment, had dropped
his gilded staff, and thrown his arm about the Lady of
the May, who leaned against his breast, too lightly to
burthen him, but with weight enough to express that
their destinies were linked together, for good or evil.
They looked first at each other, and then into the
grim captain's face. There they stood, in the first
hour of wedlock, while the idle pleasures, of which
their companions where the emblems, had given place
Puritans. But never had their youthful beauty seemed
so pure and high, as when its glow was chastened
by adversity.
`Youth,' said Endicott, `ye stand in an evil case,
thou and thy maiden wife. Make ready presently;
for I am minded that ye shall both have a token to
remember your wedding-day!'
`Stern man,' cried the May Lord, `how can I
move thee? Were the means at hand, I would resist
to the death. Being powerless, I entreat! Do with
me as thou wilt; but let Edith go untouched!'
`Not so,' replied the immitigable zealot. `We are
not wont to show an idle courtesy to that sex, which
requireth the stricter discipline. What sayest thou,
maid? Shall thy silken bridegroom suffer thy share of
the penalty, besides his own?'
`Be it death,' said Edith, `and lay it all on me!'
Truly, as Endicott had said, the poor lovers stood in
a woeful case. Their foes were triumphant, their
friends captive and abased, their home desolate, the
benighted wilderness around them, and a rigorous
destiny, in the shape of the Puritan leader, their only
guide. Yet the deepening twilight could not altogether
conceal, that the iron man was softened; he smiled,
at the fair spectacle of early love; he almost sighed,
for the inevitable blight of early hopes.
`The troubles of life have come hastily on this
young couple,' observed Endicott. `We will see how
we burthen them with greater. If, among the spoil,
there be any garments of a more decent fashion, let
them be put upon this May Lord and his Lady, instead
of their glistening vanities. Look to it, some of you.'
`And shall not the youth's hair be cut?' asked
Peter Palfrey, looking with abhorrence at the love-lock
and long glossy curls of the young man.
`Crop it forthwith, and that in the true pumpkin-shell
fashion,' answered the captain. `Then bring
them along with us, but more gently than their fellows.
There be qualities in the youth, which may make him
valiant to fight, and sober to toil, and pious to pray;
and in the maiden, that may fit her to become a mother
in our Israel, bringing up babes in better nurture
than her own hath been. Nor think ye, young ones,
that they are the happiest, even in our lifetime of a
moment, who misspend it in dancing round a May-Pole!'
And Endicott, the severest Puritan of all who laid
the rock-foundation of New England, lifted the wreath
of roses from the ruin of the May-Pole, and threw it,
with his own gauntleted hand, over the heads of the
Lord and Lady of the May. It was a deed of prophecy.
As the moral gloom of the world overpowers all
systematic gaiety, even so was their home of wild
mirth made desolate amid the sad forest. They returned
to it no more. But, as their flowery garland was
wreathed of the brightest roses that had grown there,
the purest and best of their early joys. They went
heavenward, supporting each other along the difficult
path which it was their lot to tread and never wasted
one regretful thought on the vanities of Merry Mount.
| Twice-told tales | |