In some few country villages a May-pole still survives. One such is to be seen in the little village of Welford, in Gloucestershire, painted in stripes of red, white, and blue. It was decked with flowers on May Day not many years ago, owing to the exertions of some of the local lovers of things ancient; but the genuine spirit of the festival seems to have entirely disappeared, and the ceremony has not been repeated.
What’s not destroyed by Time’s relentless hand? Where’s Troy? and where’s the May-pole in the Strand?
In the early days of May occur what used to be known as the Gange Days, on which the ceremony of beating the parish bounds was, and still {246} is in some places, undertaken, the work of the day being wound up by a more or less liberal distribution of buns and ale. Sums of money were occasionally left to provide the refreshments for these parish perambulations. At Edgcott, in Buckinghamshire, there was an acre of land called “Gang Monday Land,” the income of which was devoted to the provision of cakes and ale for those who took part in the business of the day; and in Clifton Reynes, in the same county, a devise of land for a like purpose provides that one small loaf, a piece of cheese, and a pint of ale, should be given to every married person, and half a pint of ale to every unmarried person, resident in Clifton, when they walked the parish boundaries in Rogation week.
When Whitsuntide came round, the time arrived for those quaint festivals to which Ale gave not only his support, but also his name, and which were known as Whitsun Ales. The Whitsun Ale was a special form of the Church Ale, to be mentioned anon. It is thus described by an old writer:—“Two young men of the Parish are yerely chosen by their last foregoers to be wardens, who, dividing the task, make collection among the parishioners of whatsoever provision it pleaseth them voluntarily to bestow. This they employ in brewing, baking, and other acates[55] against Whitsuntide; upon which holy days the neighbours meet at the Church-house, and there merrily feed on their owne victuals contributing some petty portion to the stock, which by many smalls, groweth to a meetly greatness: for there is entertayned a kind of emulation between these wardens, who, by his graciousness in gathering, and good husbandry in expending, can best advance the churche’s profit. Besides, the neighbour parishes at those times lovingly visit each one another, and this way frankly spend their money together. The afternoones are consumed in such exercises as olde and yong folke (having leisure) doe accustomably weare out the time withall. When the feast is ended, the wardens yield in their account to the parishioners: and such money as exceedeth the disbursement is layd up in store, to defray any extraordinary charges arising in the parish, or imposed on them for the good of the country, or the prince’s service: neither of which commonly so gripe but that somewhat still remayneth to cover the purse’s bottom.”
[55] acates = purchases.
The Morris Dancers regarded Whitsuntide as their chief festival. Introduced into this country from Spain, the Morisco or Moorish {247} Dance had, in the reign of Henry VIII., attained a great popularity. There seems to have been at that time two principal performers, Robin Hood and Maid Marian; then there was a friar, a piper, a fool, and the rank and file of the dancers. In the parish accounts of Kingston-on-Thames for the year 1537 the Morris Dancers’ wardrobe, then in the charge of the churchwardens, consisted of “A fryers cote of russet and a kyrtele weltyd with red cloth, a Mowren’s (Moor’s) cote of buckram, and four morres daunsars cotes of white fustian spangelid and two gryne saten cotes, and disardde’s (fool’s) cote of cotton, and six payre of garters with belles.”
In Elizabethan times the Morris Dance, and indeed every other kind of picturesque country festivity, may be said to have reached the zenith of popularity, soon, alas! to be followed by the chilling austerity of the Puritans, of whom it was so truly said that they “like nothing; no state, no sex; music, dancing, etc., unlawful even in kings; no kind of recreation, no kind of entertainment,—no, not so much as hawking; all are damned.”
These teach that Dauncing is a Jezabell And barley-break the ready way to Hell, The Morrice, Idolls; Whitson-ale can bee But profane Reliques of a Jubilee.[56]
[56] Thomas Randal—Annalia Dubrensia.
Whitsuntide, with its lengthening days, was specially set apart for sports and old-fashioned games, and amongst the many meetings for such purposes, none attained a wider popularity than the Cotswold or Dover’s Games. Those who are familiar with the country made classic by its associations with the great Master of English poetry, know well the green hill, still called Dover’s Hill, which forms an outpost of the main body of the Cotswolds, and overlooks the smiling vale of Evesham. On this spot, time out of mind, rural sports and festivities had been held under the name of the Cotswold Games. “How does your fallow greyhound, sir?” says Slender to Page, “I heard say he was outrun at Cotsale.” This was the site chosen by Robert Dover, an attorney of Barton-on-the-Heath, for the enlargement and perpetuation of those national sports in which he took so keen an interest, and which he {248} hoped would counteract the narrow spirit of bigotry which was beginning in his day to curtail the innocent amusements of the people. Armed with a formal authority from King James, Dover was so successful in his organization of the Games that, with a short interregnum during the Commonwealth days, their popularity continued until well into the present century. A curious old volume of poems, called Annalia Dubrensia, published in 1636, contains many quaint descriptions of the Games and their object. Drayton, Ben Jonson, Thomas Randall and others of lesser note, contributed each a poem to this collection. One of the contributors thus eulogises the sports and their patron:—