Read Online Twice-Told Tales by Nathaniel Hawthorne - Free Book Online

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 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 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
scapegoat, 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 visitors, or
perplexed them with juggling tricks, or grinned at them through
horse-collars; and when sport itself grew 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 anything could be
among such light spirits as had sworn allegiance to the Maypole. 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 Maypole.
    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 at the Maypole a
solitary sunbeam is fading from 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 Maypole 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 headpiece and breastplate. It was the
Puritan of Puritans: it was Endicott himself.
    "Stand off, priest of Baal!" said he, with a grim frown and laying