_For the Every-Day Book._
EXTRACT _from a letter dated Hitchin, May 1st, 1823_.
On this day a curious custom is observed here, of which I will give you
a brief account.
Soon after three o’clock in the morning a large party of the
town-people, and neighbouring labourers, parade the town, singing the
“_Mayer’s Song_.” They carry in their hands large branches of May, and
they affix a branch either upon, or at the side of, the doors of nearly
every respectable house in the town; where there are knockers, they
place these branches within the handles; that which was put into our
knocker was so large that the servant could not open the door till the
gardener came and took it out. The larger the branch is, that is placed
at the door, the more honourable to the house, or rather to the servants
of the house. If, in the course of the year, a servant has given offence
to any of the Mayers, then, instead of a branch of May, a branch of
elder, with a bunch of nettles, is affixed to her door: this is
considered a great disgrace, and the unfortunate subject of it is
exposed to the jeers of her rivals. On May morning, therefore, the girls
look with some anxiety for their May-branch, and rise very early to
ascertain their good or ill fortune. The houses are all thus decorated
by four o’clock in the morning. Throughout the day parties of these
Mayers are seen dancing and frolicking in various parts of the town. The
group that I saw to-day, which remained in Bancroft for more than an
hour, was composed as follows. First came two men with their faces
blacked, one of them with a birch broom in his hand, and a large
artificial hump on his back; the other dressed as a woman, all in rags
and tatters, with a large straw bonnet on, and carrying a ladle: these
are called “mad Moll and her husband:” next came two men, one most
fantastically dressed with ribbons, and a great variety of gaudy
coloured silk handkerchiefs tied round his arms from the shoulders to
the wrists, and down his thighs and legs to the ancles; he carried a
drawn sword in his hand; leaning upon his arm was a youth dressed as a
fine lady, in white muslin, and profusely bedecked from top to toe with
gay ribbons: these, I understood, were called the “Lord and Lady” of the
company; after these followed six or seven couples more, attired much in
the same style as the lord and lady, only the men were without swords.
When this group received a satisfactory contribution at any house, the
music struck up from a violin, clarionet, and fife, accompanied by the
long drum, and they began the merry dance, and very well they danced, I
assure you; the men-_women_ looked and footed it so much like _real_
women, that I stood in great doubt as to which sex they belonged to,
till Mrs. J.---- assured me that women were not permitted to mingle in
these sports. While the dancers were merrily footing it, the principal
amusement to the populace was caused by the grimaces and clownish tricks
of mad Moll and her husband. When the circle of spectators became so
contracted as to interrupt the dancers, then mad Moll’s husband went to
work with his broom, and swept the road-dust, all round the circle, into
the faces of the crowd, and when any pretended affronts were offered
(and many were offered) to his wife, he pursued the offenders, broom in
hand; if he could not overtake them, whether they were males or females,
he flung his broom at them. These flights and pursuits caused an
abundance of merriment.
I saw another company of Mayers in Sun-street, and, as far as I could
judge from where I stood, it appeared to be of exactly the same
description as that above-mentioned, but I did not venture very near
them, for I perceived mad Moll’s husband exercising his broom so
briskly upon the flying crowd, that I kept at a respectful distance.
[Illustration: ~May-day at Hitchin, in Hertfordshire.~]
The “_Mayer’s Song_” is a composition, or rather a medley, of great
antiquity, and I was therefore very desirous to procure a copy of it; in
accomplishing this, however, I experienced more difficulty than I had
anticipated; but at length succeeded in obtaining it from one of the
Mayers. The following is a literal transcript of it:
_The Mayer’s Song._
Remember us poor Mayers all,
And thus do we begin
To lead our lives in righteousness,
Or else we die in sin.
We have been rambling all this night,
And almost all this day,
And now returned back again
We have brought you a branch of May.
A branch of May we have brought you,
And at your door it stands,
It is but a sprout,
But it’s well budded out
By the work of our Lord’s hands.
The hedges and trees they are so green
As green as any leek,
Our heavenly Father He watered them
With his heavenly dew so sweet.
The heavenly gates are open wide,
Our paths are beaten plain,
And if a man be not too far gone,
He may return again.
The life of man is but a span,
It flourishes like a flower,
We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow,
And we are dead in an hour.
The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light,
A little before it is day,
So God bless you all, both great and small,
And send you a joyful May.
[Illustration: ~Milkmaids’ Garland on May-day.~]
In London, thirty years ago,
When pretty milkmaids went about,
It was a goodly sight to see
Their May-day Pageant all drawn out:--
Themselves in comely colours drest,
Their shining garland in the middle,
A pipe and tabor on before,
Or else the foot-inspiring fiddle.
They stopt at houses, where it was
Their custom to cry “milk below!”
And, while the music play’d, with smiles
Join’d hands, and pointed toe to toe.
Thus they tripp’d on, till--from the door
The hop’d-for annual present sent--
A signal came, to curtsy low,
And at that door cease merriment.
Such scenes, and sounds, once blest my eyes,
And charm’d my ears--but all have vanish’d!
On May-day, now, no garlands go,
For milk-maids, and their dance, are banish’d.
My recollections of these sights
“Annihilate both time and space;”
I’m boy enough to wish them back,
And think their absence--out of place.
_May 4, 1825._
From the preceding lines somewhat may be learned of a lately disused
custom in London. The milkmaids’ _garland_ was a pyramidical frame,
covered with damask, glittering on each side with polished silver plate,
and adorned with knots of gay-coloured ribbons, and posies of fresh
flowers, surmounted by a silver urn, or tankard. The _garland_ being
placed on a wooden horse, was carried by two men, as represented in the
engraving, sometimes preceded by a pipe and tabor, but more frequently
by a fiddle; the gayest milkmaids followed the music, others followed
the garland, and they stopped at their customers’ doors, and danced. The
plate, in some of these garlands, was very costly. It was usually
borrowed of the pawnbrokers, for the occasion, upon security. One person
in that trade was particularly resorted to for this accommodation. He
furnished out the entire garland, and let it at so much per hour, under
bond from responsible housekeepers for its safe return. In this way one
set of milkmaids would hire the garland from ten o’clock till one, and
another set would have the garland from one o’clock till six; and so on,
during the first three days of May.
It was customary with milk-people of less profitable walks to make a
display of another kind, less gaudy in appearance, but better bespeaking
their occupation, and more appropriate to the festival. This was an
exhibition of themselves, in their best apparel, and of the useful
animal which produced the fluid they retailed. One of these is thus
described to the editor of the _Every-Day Book_, by an intelligent
eye-witness, and admirer of the pleasant sight. A beautiful country girl
“drest all in her best,” and more gaily attired than on any other day,
with floral ornaments in her neat little hat, and on her bosom, led her
cow, by a rope depending from its horns, garlanded with flowers and
knots of ribbons; the horns, neck, and head of the cow were decorated in
like manner: a fine net, like those upon ladies’ palfreys, tastefully
stuck with flowers, covered Bess’s back, and even her tail was
ornamented, with products of the spring, and silken knots. The
proprietress of the cow, a neat, brisk, little, matronly body, followed
on one side, in holiday-array, with a sprig in her country bonnet, a
blooming posy in her handkerchief, and ribbons on her stomacher. This
scene was in Westminster, near the old abbey. Ah! _those_ were the
days.
The milkmaids’ earlier plate-garland was a pyramid of piled utensils,
carried on a stout damsel’s head, under which she danced to the violin.