Mayday Rejoicing at Burnsall 1874
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Mayday Rejoicing at Burnsall 1874
Barwicker No. 53
April 1999
We thank Alan Stockdale, Chairman of the Burnsall Parish
Meeting, for supplying us with the following extract. It was Mr
Stockdale who wrote the splendid article 'Dark Deeds in the Dales' for
'The Barwicker' No.29. The writer JB provides us with a vivid picture
of a Maypole rearing last century in the lovely village of Burnsall in
Wharfedale, despite seeming to have a more accurate knowledge of
Scottish poetry than of Yorkshire farming practices. The fact that 125
years ago these ceremonies were beginning to die out should make us
thankful that they have survived here in Barwick and this should renew
our determination to see that they continue for many years.
The old English custom of "rearing the Maypole" (which was once general
throughout "our native isle", the Maypole having a place in almost every
village, and which has been kept up in Burnsall from time immemorial), again
took place with some of the old rustic sports on Friday last, Mayday. The old
Maypole which was reared on May 1st. 1862, was blown down on Monday,
the 16th. December, 1873 by the high winds that caused such great
destruction to life and property in various parts of Yorkshire, the one previous
to this was reared May 1st. 1834, and blown down by the gale that did so
much damage in Ireland, on the 6th. January, and in England on the 7th.
January, 1839.
On Friday, a number of people from the neighbouring villages collected
together, some to assist in, and others to witness the "rearing" and take part in
the sports. The sight of a Maypole rearing is always an interesting and joyous
one, especially so in a country village, where the well-to-do farmer is, - or
ought to be - no less joyous, than the nymphs and swains who merrily dance
on the daisy-decked green. For he knows that the cold and dreary winter,
with all its long nights, its short and sunless days, - the springs, brooks and
rivers congealed into a mass, - the drifting blinding snows heaped high over
every pile of verdure, - his starving flocks huddled together by fence, wood or
brush (for "better a wee bush than nae bield," said Burns), appealing to the
farmer's sympathy for "just bite" from the fine flavoured hay-mow.
He knows also that his cattle which have been pent up "in barn and byre to
bouse and band," have caused him many an anxious and uneasy feeling for
fear that he should be "short of hay". He can now walk forth freed from
those anxieties, and, "happy as a king" or Mayday Queen, see his fine roan
spanged, red or white cattle browsing on the rich swelling pastures of
Wharfedale. The tedious lambing season is past, and he now sees the young
lambs sport and gamble, or frisk by their dams in the fields, merry as the
month of May.
It was a highly interesting sight to see the stout and stalwart sons of
Wharfedale setting shoulder, fork and ladder to the pole, and lifting with
many an earnest "Heave Ho!", "Steady!" and "Altogether!" common to
Yorkshiremen. It was grand to see the pole of sixty six feet rise to its
(intended) perpendicular, the Hebden Brass Band, the while playing the
Scottish national air, "Auld Lang Syne". Mr Roberts, of the Red Lion, at this
time passed about a large jug foaming over with his best brown ale forceably
reminding one of Herrick's lines:
"The Maypole is up,
Now give me a cup
I'll drink to the garlands around it.
But first unto those
Whose hands did compose
The glory of flowers that crown'd it." |
While this was going on, Mr Arundel, artist to the Yorkshire Magazine,
was taking a sketch from a good position at the South end of the village. In
front there was the village green with juveniles engaged in joyous Mayday
revelry, behind was the Maypole decked with ribbons, and crowned with
ball, vane, etc., and surrounded by an assemblage of people, amongst who
were Mr Federer (editor of the Yorkshire Magazine). The village parson, as in
olden times, also figured on the scene. On the right were the crystal waters of
the Wharfe, spanned by the fine old lofty bridge of three arches, with the Red
Lion Hotel at the Western end; the grey green village on slightly rising ground
standing backward, with the tower of St Wilfred's in the centre peering high
above farm house or cottage, and the Skuff, Ranelands, Pickering End and
Garnshaw forming the background.
A good tale is told in Mr Harker's 'Rambles in Upper Wharfedale' (page 167)
of a maypole at Burnsall some three score years ago being taken away in
the night by a lot of merry cobblers from Thorpe and there set up, and how it
remained for some time undiscovered, as much to the amusement of the
Thorpe folk, as to the chagrin of those at Burnsall. It was at length
discovered, and after a sharp encounter with those lads of the "lapstone and
leather", it was borne back in triumph amid the victorious shouts of the "boys
of Burnsall", and again fixed in its original position. Long may the once
national custom of "rearing the Maypole" be continued, and examples taken
from those places where it is still kept up, - Otley, Burnsall and Conistone in
Wharfedale. " JB
From the Craven Herald
Saturday May 9th. 1874.
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