THE MAYPOLE OF MERRY MOUNT
There is an admirable foundation for a philosophic romance in thecurious history of the early settlement of Mount Wollaston, orMerry Mount. In the slight sketch here attempted, the facts,recorded on the grave pages of our New England annalists, havewrought themselves, almost spontaneously, into a sort ofallegory. The masques, mummeries, and festive customs, describedin the text, are in accordance with the manners of the age.Authority on these points may be found in Strutt's Book ofEnglish Sports and Pastimes.
Bright were the days at Merry Mount, when the Maypole was thebanner staff of that gay colony! They who reared it, should theirbanner be triumphant, were to pour sunshine over New England'srugged hills, and scatter flower seeds throughout the soil.Jollity and gloom were contending for an empire. Midsummer evehad come, bringing deep verdure to the forest, and roses in herlap, of a more vivid hue than the tender buds of Spring. But May,or her mirthful spirit, dwelt all the year round at Merry Mount,sporting with the Summer months, and revelling with Autumn, andbasking in the glow of Winter's fireside. Through a world of toiland care she flitted with a dreamlike smile, and came hither tofind a home among the lightsome hearts of Merry Mount.
Never had the Maypole been so gayly decked as at sunset onmidsummer eve. This venerated emblem was a pine-tree, which hadpreserved the slender grace of youth, while it equalled theloftiest height of the old wood monarchs. From its top streamed asilken banner, colored like the rainbow. Down nearly to theground the pole was dressed with birchen boughs, and others ofthe liveliest green, and some with silvery leaves, fastened byribbons that fluttered in fantastic knots of twenty differentcolors, but no sad ones. Garden flowers, and blossoms of thewilderness, laughed gladly forth amid the verdure, so fresh anddewy that they must have grown by magic on that happy pine-tree.Where this green and flowery splendor terminated, the shaft ofthe Maypole was stained with the seven brilliant hues of thebanner at its top. On the lowest green bough hung an abundantwreath of roses, some that had been gathered in the sunniestspots of the forest, and others, of still richer blush, which thecolonists had reared from English seed. O, people of the GoldenAge, the chief of your husbandry was to raise flowers!
But what was the wild throng that stood hand in hand about theMaypole? It could not be that the fauns and nymphs, when drivenfrom their classic groves and homes of ancient fable, had soughtrefuge, as all the persecuted did, in the fresh woods of theWest. These were Gothic monsters, though perhaps of Grecianancestry. On the shoulders of a comely youth uprose the head andbranching antlers of a stag; a second, human in all other points,had the grim visage of a wolf; a third, still with the trunk andlimbs of a mortal man, showed the beard and horns of a venerablehe-goat. There was the likeness of a bear erect, brute in all buthis hind legs, which were adorned with pink silk stockings. Andhere again, almost as wondrous, stood a real bear of the darkforest, lending each of his fore paws to the grasp of a humanhand, and as ready for the dance as any in that circle. Hisinferior nature rose half way, to meet his companions as theystooped. Other faces wore the similitude of man or woman, butdistorted or extravagant, with red noses pendulous before theirmouths, which seemed of awful depth, and stretched from ear toear in an eternal fit of laughter. Here might be seen the SavageMan, well known in heraldry, hairy as a baboon, and girdled withgreen leaves. By his side a noble figure, but still acounterfeit, appeared an Indian hunter, with feathery crest andwampum belt. Many of this strange company wore foolscaps, and hadlittle bells appended to their garments, tinkling with a silverysound, responsive to the inaudible music of their gleesomespirits. Some youths and maidens were of soberer garb, yet wellmaintained their places in the irregular throng by the expressionof wild revelry upon their features. Such were the colonists ofMerry Mount, as they stood in the broad smile of sunset roundtheir venerated Maypole.
Had a wanderer, bewildered in the melancholy forest, heard theirmirth, and stolen a half-affrighted glance, he might have fanciedthem the crew of Comus, some already transformed to brutes, somemidway between man and beast, and the others rioting in the flowof tipsy jollity that foreran the change. But a band of Puritans,who watched the scene, invisible themselves, compared the masquesto those devils and ruined souls with whom their superstitionpeopled the black wilderness.
Within the ring of monsters appeared the two airiest forms thathad ever trodden on any more solid footing than a purple andgolden cloud. One was a youth in glistening apparel, with a scarfof the rainbow pattern crosswise on his breast. His right handheld a gilded staff, the ensign of high dignity among therevellers, and his left grasped the slender fingers of a fairmaiden, not less gayly decorated than himself. Bright rosesglowed in contrast with the dark and glossy curls of each, andwere scattered round their feet, or had sprung up spontaneouslythere. Behind this lightsome couple, so close to the Maypole thatits boughs shaded his jovial face, stood the figure of an Englishpriest, canonically dressed, yet decked with flowers, in heathenfashion, and wearing a chaplet of the native vine leaves. By theriot of his rolling eye, and the pagan decorations of his holygarb, he seemed the wildest monster there, and the very Comus ofthe crew.
"Votaries of the Maypole," cried the flower-decked priest,"merrily, all day long, have the woods echoed to your mirth. Butbe this your merriest hour, my hearts! Lo, here stand the Lordand Lady of the May, whom I, a clerk of Oxford, and high priestof Merry Mount, am presently to join in holy matrimony. Up withyour nimble spirits, ye morris-dancers, green men, and gleemaidens, bears and wolves, and horned gentlemen! Come; a chorusnow, rich with the old mirth of Merry England, and the wilderglee of this fresh forest; and then a dance, to show the youthfulpair what life is made of, and how airily they should go throughit! All ye that love the Maypole, lend your voices to the nuptialsong 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 continualcarnival. The Lord and Lady of the May, though their titles mustbe laid down at sunset, were really and truly to be partners forthe dance of life, beginning the measure that same bright eve.The wreath of roses, that hung from the lowest green bough of theMaypole, had been twined for them, and would be thrown over boththeir heads, in symbol of their flowery union. When the priesthad spoken, therefore, a riotous uproar burst from the rout ofmonstrous figures.
"Begin you the stave, reverend Sir," cried they all; "and neverdid the woods ring to such a merry peal as we of the Maypoleshall send up!"
Immediately a prelude of pipe, cithern, and viol, touched withpractised minstrelsy, began to play from a neighboring thicket,in such a mirthful cadence that the boughs of the Maypolequivered to the sound. But the May Lord, he of the gilded staff,chancing to look into his Lady's eyes, was wonder struck at thealmost pensive glance that met his own.
"Edith, sweet Lady of the May," whispered he reproachfully, "isyon wreath of roses a garland to hang above our graves, that youlook so sad? O, Edith, this is our golden time! Tarnish it not byany pensive shadow of the mind; for it may be that nothing offuturity will be brighter than the mere remembrance of what isnow passing."
"That was the very thought that saddened me! How came it in yourmind too?" said Edith, in a still lower tone than he, for it washigh treason to be sad at Merry Mount. "Therefore do I sigh amidthis festive music. And besides, dear Edgar, I struggle as with adream, and fancy that these shapes of our jovial friends arevisionary, and their mirth unreal, and that we are no true Lordand Lady of the May. What is the mystery in my heart?"
Just then, as if a spell had loosened them, down came a littleshower of withering rose leaves from the Maypole. Alas, for theyoung lovers! No sooner had their hearts glowed with real passionthan they were sensible of something vague and unsubstantial intheir former pleasures, and felt a dreary presentiment ofinevitable change. From the moment that they truly loved, theyhad subjected themselves to earth's doom of care and sorrow, andtroubled joy, and had no more a home at Merry Mount. That wasEdith's mystery. Now leave
we the priest to marry them, and themasquers to sport round the Maypole, till the last sunbeam bewithdrawn from its summit, and the shadows of the forest minglegloomily in the dance. Meanwhile, we may discover who these gaypeople were.
Two hundred years ago, and more, the old world and itsinhabitants became mutually weary of each other. Men voyaged bythousands to the West: some to barter glass beads, and such likejewels, for the furs of the Indian hunter; some to conquer virginempires; and one stern band to pray. But none of these motiveshad much weight with the colonists of Merry Mount. Their leaderswere men who had sported so long with life, that when Thought andWisdom came, even these unwelcome guests were led astray by thecrowd of vanities which they should have put to flight. ErringThought and perverted Wisdom were made to put on masques, andplay the fool. The men of whom we speak, after losing the heart'sfresh gayety, imagined a wild philosophy of pleasure, and camehither to act out their latest day-dream. They gathered followersfrom all that giddy tribe whose whole life is like the festaldays of soberer men. In their train were minstrels, not unknownin London streets; wandering players, whose theatres had been thehalls of noblemen; mummers, rope-dancers, and mountebanks, whowould long be missed at wakes, church ales, and fairs; in a word,mirth makers of every sort, such as abounded in that age, but nowbegan to be discountenanced by the rapid growth of Puritanism.Light had their footsteps been on land, and as lightly they cameacross the sea. Many had been maddened by their previous troublesinto a gay despair; others were as madly gay in the flush ofyouth, like the May Lord and his Lady; but whatever might be thequality of their mirth, old and young were gay at Merry Mount.The young deemed themselves happy. The elder spirits, if theyknew that mirth was but the counterfeit of happiness, yetfollowed the false shadow wilfully, because at least her garmentsglittered brightest. Sworn triflers of a lifetime, they would notventure among the sober truths of life not even to be trulyblest.
All the hereditary pastimes of Old England were transplantedhither. The King of Christmas was duly crowned, and the Lord ofMisrule bore potent sway. On the Eve of St. John, they felledwhole acres of the forest to make bonfires, and danced by theblaze all night, crowned with garlands, and throwing flowers intothe flame. At harvest time, though their crop was of thesmallest, they made an image with the sheaves of Indian corn, andwreathed it with autumnal garlands, and bore it hometriumphantly. But what chiefly characterized the colonists ofMerry Mount was their veneration for the Maypole. It has madetheir true history a poet's tale. Spring decked the hallowedemblem with young blossoms and fresh green boughs; Summer broughtroses of the deepest blush, and the perfected foliage of theforest; Autumn enriched it with that red and yellow gorgeousnesswhich converts each wildwood leaf into a painted flower; andWinter 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 Maypole, and paid ita tribute of its own richest splendor. Its votaries danced roundit, once, at least, in every month; sometimes they called ittheir religion, or their altar; but always, it was the bannerstaff of Merry Mount.
Unfortunately, there were men in the new world of a sterner faiththan those Maypole worshippers. Not far from Merry Mount was asettlement of Puritans, most dismal wretches, who said theirprayers before daylight, and then wrought in the forest or thecornfield till evening made it prayer time again. Their weaponswere always at hand to shoot down the straggling savage. Whenthey met in conclave, it was never to keep up the old Englishmirth, but to hear sermons three hours long, or to proclaimbounties on the heads of wolves and the scalps of Indians. Theirfestivals were fast days, and their chief pastime the singing ofpsalms. Woe to the youth or maiden who did but dream of a dance!The selectman nodded to the constable; and there sat thelight-heeled reprobate in the stocks; or if he danced, it wasround the whipping-post, which might be termed the PuritanMaypole.
A party of these grim Puritans, toiling through the difficultwoods, each with a horseload of iron armor to burden hisfootsteps, would sometimes draw near the sunny precincts of MerryMount. There were the silken colonists, sporting round theirMaypole; perhaps teaching a bear to dance, or striving tocommunicate their mirth to the grave Indian; or masquerading inthe skins of deer and wolves, which they had hunted for thatespecial purpose. Often, the whole colony were playing atblindman's buff, magistrates and all, with their eyes bandaged,except a single scapegoat, whom the blinded sinners pursued bythe tinkling of the bells at his garments. Once, it is said, theywere seen following a flower-decked corpse, with merriment andfestive music, to his grave. But did the dead man laugh? In theirquietest times, they sang ballads and told tales, for theedification of their pious visitors; or perplexed them withjuggling tricks; or grinned at them through horse collars; andwhen sport itself grew wearisome, they made game of their ownstupidity, and began a yawning match. At the very least of theseenormities, the men of iron shook their heads and frowned sodarkly that the revellers looked up imagining that a momentarycloud had overcast the sunshine, which was to be perpetual there.On the other hand, the Puritans affirmed that, when a psalm waspealing from their place of worship, the echo which the forestsent them back seemed often like the chorus of a jolly catch,closing with a roar of laughter. Who but the fiend, and his bondslaves, the crew of Merry Mount, had thus disturbed them? In duetime, a feud arose, stern and bitter on one side, and as seriouson the other as anything could be among such light spirits as hadsworn allegiance to the Maypole. The future complexion of NewEngland was involved in this important quarrel. Should thegrizzly saints establish their jurisdiction over the gay sinners,then would their spirits darken all the clime, and make it a landof clouded visages, of hard toil, of sermon and psalm forever.But should the banner staff of Merry Mount be fortunate, sunshinewould break upon the hills, and flowers would beautify theforest, and late posterity do homage to the Maypole.
After these authentic passages from history, we return to thenuptials of the Lord and Lady of the May. Alas! we have delayedtoo long, and must darken our tale too suddenly. As we glanceagain at the Maypole, a solitary sunbeam is fading from thesummit, and leaves only a faint, golden tinge blended with thehues of the rainbow banner. Even that dim light is now withdrawn,relinquishing the whole domain of Merry Mount to the eveninggloom, which has rushed so instantaneously from the blacksurrounding woods. But some of these black shadows have rushedforth in human shape.
Yes, with the setting sun, the last day of mirth had passed fromMerry Mount. The ring of gay masquers was disordered and broken;the stag lowered his antlers in dismay; the wolf grew weaker thana lamb; the bells of the morris-dancers tinkled with tremulousaffright. The Puritans had played a characteristic part in theMaypole mummeries. Their darksome figures were intermixed withthe wild shapes of their foes, and made the scene a picture ofthe moment, when waking thoughts start up amid the scatteredfantasies of a dream. The leader of the hostile party stood inthe centre of the circle, while the route of monsters coweredaround him, like evil spirits in the presence of a dreadmagician. No fantastic foolery could look him in the face. Sostern was the energy of his aspect, that the whole man, visage,frame, and soul, seemed wrought of iron, gifted with life andthought, yet all of one substance with his headpiece andbreastplate. It was the Puritan of Puritans; it was Endicotthimself!
"Stand off, priest of Baal!" said he, with a grim frown, andlaying no reverent hand upon the surplice. "I know thee,Blackstone![1] Thou art the man who couldst not abide the ruleeven of thine own corrupted church, and hast come hither topreach iniquity, and to give example of it in thy life. But nowshall it be seen that the Lord hath sanctified this wildernessfor his peculiar people. Woe unto them that would defile it! Andfirst, for this flower-decked abomination, the altar of thyworship!"
[1] Did Governor Endicott speak less positively, we shouldsuspect a mistake here. The Rev. Mr. Blackstone, though aneccentric, is not known to have been an immoral man. We ratherdoubt his identity with the priest of Merry Mount.
And with his keen sword
Endicott assaulted the hallowed Maypole.Nor long did it resist his arm. It groaned with a dismal sound;it showered leaves and rosebuds upon the remorseless enthusiast;and finally, with all its green boughs and ribbons and flowers,symbolic of departed pleasures, down fell the banner staff ofMerry Mount. As it sank, tradition says, the evening sky grewdarker, and the woods threw forth a more sombre shadow.
"There," cried Endicott, looking triumphantly on his work, "therelies the only Maypole in New England! The thought is strongwithin me that, by its fall, is shadowed forth the fate of lightand idle mirth makers, amongst us and our posterity. Amen, saithJohn Endicott."
"Amen!" echoed his followers.
But the votaries of the Maypole gave one groan for their idol. Atthe sound, the Puritan leader glanced at the crew of Comus, eacha figure of broad mirth, yet, at this moment, strangelyexpressive 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 Maypole," repliedEndicott, "yet now I could find in my heart to plant it again,and give each of these bestial pagans one other dance round theiridol. 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 theheathen crew, and bestow on them a small matter of stripesapiece, as earnest of our future justice. Set some of the roguesin the stocks to rest themselves, so soon as Providence shallbring us to one of our own well-ordered settlements where suchaccommodations may be found. Further penalties, such as brandingand 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 theculprit. "It must be for the Great and General Court todetermine, whether stripes and long imprisonment, and othergrievous penalty, may atone for his transgressions. Let him lookto himself! For such as violate our civil order, it may bepermitted us to show mercy. But woe to the wretch that troublethour religion."
"And this dancing bear," resumed the officer. "Must he share thestripes of his fellows?"
"Shoot him through the head!" said the energetic Puritan. "Isuspect 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 seemto be of high station among these misdoers. Methinks theirdignity will not be fitted with less than a double share ofstripes."
Endicott rested on his sword, and closely surveyed the dress andaspect of the hapless pair. There they stood, pale, downcast, andapprehensive. Yet there was an air of mutual support and of pureaffection, seeking aid and giving it, that showed them to be manand wife, with the sanction of a priest upon their love. Theyouth, in the peril of the moment, had dropped his gilded staff,and thrown his arm about the Lady of the May, who leaned againsthis breast, too lightly to burden him, but with weight enough toexpress that their destinies were linked together, for good orevil. They looked first at each other, and then into the grimcaptain's face. There they stood, in the first hour of wedlock,while the idle pleasures, of which their companions were theemblems, had given place to the sternest cares of life,personified by the dark Puritans. But never had their youthfulbeauty seemed so pure and high as when its glow was chastened byadversity.
"Youth," said Endicott, "ye stand in an evil case thou and thymaiden wife. Make ready presently, for I am minded that ye shallboth have a token to remember your wedding day!"
"Stern man," cried the May Lord, "how can I move thee? Were themeans at hand, I would resist to the death. Being powerless, Ientreat! Do with me as thou wilt, but let Edith go untouched!"
"Not so," replied the immitigable zealot. "We are not wont toshow an idle courtesy to that sex, which requireth the stricterdiscipline. What sayest thou, maid? Shall thy silken bridegroomsuffer 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 wofulcase. Their foes were triumphant, their friends captive andabased, their home desolate, the benighted wilderness aroundthem, and a rigorous destiny, in the shape of the Puritan leader,their only guide. Yet the deepening twilight could not altogetherconceal that the iron man was softened; he smiled at the fairspectacle of early love; he almost sighed for the inevitableblight of early hopes.
"The troubles of life have come hastily on this young couple,"observed Endicott. "We will see how they comport themselves undertheir present trials ere we burden them with greater. If, amongthe spoil, there be any garments of a more decent fashion, letthem be put upon this May Lord and his Lady, instead of theirglistening vanities. Look to it, some of you.
"And shall not the youth's hair be cut?" asked Peter Palfrey,looking with abhorrence at the lovelock and long glossy curls ofthe young man.
"Crop it forthwith, and that in the true pumpkin-shell fashion,"answered the captain. "Then bring them along with us, but moregently than their fellows. There be qualities in the youth, whichmay make him valiant to fight, and sober to toil, and pious topray; and in the maiden, that may fit her to become a mother inour Israel, bringing up babes in better nurture than her own hathbeen. Nor think ye, young ones, that they are the happiest, evenin our lifetime of a moment, who misspend it in dancing round aMaypole!"
And Endicott, the severest Puritan of all who laid the rockfoundation of New England, lifted the wreath of roses from theruin of the Maypole, and threw it, with his own gauntleted hand,over the heads of the Lord and Lady of the May. It was a deed ofprophecy. As the moral gloom of the world overpowers allsystematic gayety, even so was their home of wild mirth madedesolate amid the sad forest. They returned to it no more. But astheir flowery garland was wreathed of the brightest roses thathad grown there, so, in the tie that united them, wereintertwined all the purest and best of their early joys. Theywent heavenward, supporting each other along the difficult pathwhich it was their lot to tread, and never wasted one regretfulthought on the vanities of Merry Mount.
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