CHAPTER VII.
THE MAY-FEAST.
Le premier jour de Mai,
Labourez,
J'm'en fus planter un mai,
Labourez,
A la porte à ma mie.
_Ancienne Chanson._
It was scarcely five o'clock in the morning when Jules, who slept
like a cat, shouted to Lochiel in the next room that it was high time
they were up; but as the latter would make no response, Jules took
the surest way of arousing him by getting up himself. Arming himself
with a towel dipped in cold water, he entered his friend's bedroom
and squeezed the icy fluid in his face. In spite of his aquatic
inclinations, Archie found this attention very little to his taste; he
snatched the towel, rolled it into a ball, and hurled it at Jules's
head. Then he turned over and was preparing to go to sleep again, when
Jules snatched off all the bed-clothes. It looked as if the fortress,
in this extremity, had nothing to do but surrender at discretion;
but the garrison, in the person of Lochiel, was more numerous than
the besieging force in the person of Jules, and, shaking the latter
fiercely, he asked if sleeping was forbidden at D'Haberville Manor.
He was even proceeding to hurl the besieger from the ramparts when
Jules, struggling in his adversary's mighty arms, begged him to listen
a moment before inflicting such a disgrace upon a future soldier of
France.
"What have you to say for yourself, you wretched boy?" exclaimed
Archie, now thoroughly awake. Is it not enough for you that all day
long you give me no peace, but even in the night you must come and
torment me?"
"I am grieved, indeed," said Jules, "at having interrupted your
slumbers; but as our folk have to set up another May-pole at the
place of Bélanger of the Cross, a good mile and a half from here,
they intend to present my father with his at six o'clock; and if you
don't want to lose any of the ceremony it is time for you to dress. I
declare, I thought everybody was like myself, wrapped up in everything
that can bring us more in touch with our _habitants_. I do not know
anything that moves me more than this sympathy between my father and
his tenants, between our family and these brave lads; moreover, as my
adopted brother, you will have your part to play in the approaching
spectacle."
As soon as the young men had finished dressing, they passed from their
room to one which looked out on the yard, where a lively scene met
their view. There were at least a hundred _habitants_ scattered about
in groups. With their long guns, their powder-horns suspended from the
neck, their tomahawks stuck in the girdle, their inseparable axes,
they looked less like peaceful tillers of the soil than a band of
desperadoes ready for a foray.
Lochiel was much amused by the spectacle, and wished to go out and join
the groups, but Jules vetoed his proposal, saying that it would be
contrary to etiquette. He explained that the family were all supposed
to be unaware of what was going on outside, no matter how great the
noise and excitement. Some were decorating the May-pole, others were
digging the hole in which it was to be planted, while yet others were
sharpening long stakes to be used in bracing it firmly. As for the
May-pole itself, it was of the utmost simplicity. It consisted of a
tall fir tree, with its branches cut off and peeled to within two or
three feet of the top. Here a tuft of greenery, about three feet long,
was permitted to remain, and dignified with the title of "the bouquet."
This "bouquet" was ornamental enough so long as it kept green, but
when withered by the heat of summer its appearance became anything but
cheerful. A rod six feet long, painted red, surmounted with a green
weather cock and adorned with a large red ball, was thrust between the
branches of "the bouquet" and nailed to the tree, which completed the
decoration of the May-pole. It is necessary to add that strong wooden
pegs, driven into the trunk at regular intervals, facilitated the
climbing of the May-pole, and served also as points of support for the
props by aid of which it was raised into position.
The firing of a gun before the main entrance announced that every
thing was ready. Immediately on this signal the seigneur and his
family gathered in the drawing-room to receive the deputation which
would follow immediately after the report. The seigneur occupied a
great arm-chair, with Lady D'Haberville seated at his right and his
son Jules at his left. Uncle Raoul, erect and leaning upon his sword,
stood immediately behind this first group, between Blanche and Madame
de Beaumont who were seated. Archie stood at Blanche's left. They
were scarcely in position when two old men, introduced by José, the
major-domo, approached Seigneur D'Haberville, saluted him with that
courteous air which was natural to the early Canadians and begged his
permission to plant a May-pole before his threshold. This permission
granted, the deputation withdrew and acquainted the crowd with their
success. Everybody then knelt down and prayed for protection throughout
the day. In about fifteen minutes the May-pole rose over the crowd with
a slow, majestic motion, and its green top looked down upon all the
buildings surrounding it. A few minutes more and it was firmly planted.
A second gunshot announced a new deputation, and the same two old men,
carrying their guns, escorted in two of the leading _habitants_. One of
the _habitants_ carried a little greenish goblet, two inches high, on a
plate of faïence, while the other bore a bottle of brandy. Introduced
by the indispensable José, they begged the seigneur to come and receive
the May-pole which he had so graciously consented to accept. Upon the
seigneur's response, one of the old men added:
"Would our seigneur be pleased to 'wet' the Maypole before he blackens
it?" With these words he handed the seigneur a gun and a glass of
brandy.
"We will 'wet' it together, my friends," said M. D'Haberville, making
a sign to José, who at once hastened forward with a tray containing
four glasses of the same cordial fluid. Then the seigneur rose, touched
glasses with the four delegates, swallowed at a draught their brandy,
which he pronounced excellent, took up the gun and started for the
door, followed by all that were in the room.
As soon as he appeared on the threshold a young man clambered up the
May-pole with the nimbleness of a squirrel, gave three twirls to the
weather-cock, and shouted: "Long live the King! Long live the Seigneur
D'Haberville!" And the crowd yelled after him with all the vigor of
their lungs: "Long live the King! Long live the Seigneur D'Haberville!"
Meanwhile the young man had clambered down again, cutting off with his
tomahawk as he descended all the pegs of the May-pole.
Thereupon the seigneur proceeded to blacken the May-pole by firing at
it a blank charge from his musket. The other members of the family
followed his example in the order of their rank, the ladies firing as
well as the men.
Then followed a rattling _feu-de-joie_, which lasted a good half-hour.
One might have fancied the manor house was besieged by a hostile army.
The May-pole, so white before, seemed suddenly to have been painted
black, so zealous were all to do it honor. Indeed, the more powder one
could burn on this occasion, the greater the compliment to him for whom
the May-pole was erected.
As every pleasure comes to an end, M. D'Haberville seized a moment
when the firing appeared to slacken a little to invite the crowd in to
breakfast. There was another rattling discharge by way of temporary
farewell to the May-pole, some splinters of which were now scattered
about the ground beneath, and every one moved silently into the house.
The seigneur, the ladies, and a dozen of the oldest among the leading
_habitants_, were seated at a table in the seigneurial dining-room.
This table was set with the plain dishes, wines, and coffee which
constituted a Canadian breakfast among the upper classes; there was
added also to gratify the guests some excellent brandy, and some
sugar-cakes in lieu of bread.
It was no offense to the other guests to be excluded from this table;
they were proud, on the contrary, of the compliment paid to their more
venerable relations and friends.
The second table in the adjoining room, where Uncle Raoul presided,
was supplied as would have been that of a rich _habitant_ on a similar
occasion. Besides the superfluity of viands already enumerated, each
guest found beside his plate the inevitable sugar-cake, a cruller,
a tart about five inches in diameter and more rich in paste than in
jam, and an unlimited supply of brandy. There were also some bottles
of wine on the table, to which nobody paid the least attention; to use
their own energetic expression, it did not "scratch the throat enough."
The wine was placed there chiefly for the women, who were occupied in
serving the breakfast, and who would take their places at the table
after the men's departure. Josephte would take a glass or two of wine
without much pressing after she had had her accustomed appetizer.
Over the third table, spread in the mighty kitchen, presided Jules,
with Archie to assist him. This was the table for the young men, and it
was supplied like that of Uncle Raoul. While there was gayety enough
at the first two tables, there was at the same time a certain decorum
observed; but at the third, especially toward the end of the repast,
which lasted far on into the morning, there was such a perpetual
applause that one could hardly hear himself speak.
The reader is much deceived if he imagines that the May-pole was all
this time enjoying repose. Almost every moment one or other of the
guests would get up, run out and fire his gun at the May-pole, and
return to his place at the table after this act of courtesy.
At the beginning of dessert the seigneur, accompanied by the ladies,
visited the second and third tables, where they were rapturously
received. A friendly word was on his lips for every one. He drank the
health of his tenants, and his tenants drank to himself and his family,
to the accompaniment of the reports of twenty muskets, which were
blazing away outside.
This ceremony at an end, the seigneur returned to his own table, where
he was induced to sing a little song, in the chorus of which all joined.
"Oh, here's to the hero,
The hero, the hero;
Oh, here's to the hero
That taught men to dine!
When joy is at zero,
At zero, at zero;
When joy is at zero,
What solace like wine!
_Chorus._ Till he's drunk, or quite near it,
No soldier will shrink,
But cry shame on the spirit
Too craven to drink.
"When we taste the rare liquor,
Rare liquor, rare liquor;
When we taste the rare liquor
That tickles our throats,
Our hearts they beat quicker,
Beat quicker, beat quicker;
Our hearts they beat quicker,
Which clearly denotes
_Chorus._ That till drunk, or quite near it,
No soldier should shrink,
But cry shame on the spirit
Too craven to drink."
Scarcely was this song ended when the sonorous voice of Uncle Raoul
arose:
"Oh, I am a drinker, I,
For I'm built that way;
Let every man stick to his taste,
Each dog have his day!
The drinker he frights dull care
To flight with a song--
He serves the jolliest god,
And he serves him long!
_Chorus._ Oh, I am a drinker, I, etc.
"Let José go fighting and put
The Dutchman to rout,
But I'll win my laurels at home
In the drinking-bout!
_Chorus._ Oh, I am a drinker, I, etc."
"Your turn now, young master!" cried the third table. "Our elders have
set us the proper example to follow."
"With all my heart," replied Jules; and he sang the following verses:
"God Bacchus, throned upon a cask,
Hath bid me love the bell-mouthed flask;
Hath bid me vow these lips of mine
Shall own no drink but wine!
_Chorus._ But wine, boys, but wine!
We'll drain, we'll drain the bottles dry,
And swear the drink divine!
"Nor emperor nor king may know
The joys that from our bumpers flow--
The mirth that makes the dullest shine--
Who owns no drink but wine!
_Chorus._ But wine, boys, but wine! etc.
"Let wives go knit and sweethearts spin,
We've wine to drown our troubles in.
We'll sing the praises of the vine,
And own no drink but wine!
_Chorus._ But wine, boys, but wine! etc."
The example once set by the hosts, everybody made haste to follow
it, and song succeeded song with ever-increasing fervor. Then Father
Chouinard, a retired veteran of the French army after two songs which
won great applause, suggested that it was time to withdraw. He thanked
the seigneur for his hospitality, and proposed to drink his health
once again--a proposition which was received with loud enthusiasm.
After this the joyous throng took its departure singing, with the
accompaniment of musket-shots, whose echoes, thrown back by the bluff,
appeared to linger reluctantly behind them.