HISTORY. The poem takes immediate hold of the events given in the early chronicles. The time when the story begins is stated only in a general way; but as the Mayflower began her return voyage April 5, 1621, the phrase, “In the Old Colony days,” stands for April 4th of the same year. The names of the three principal characters are mentioned in Bradford’s History of Plymouth Plantation as names of immigrants on the Mayflower. In regard to the instance of the rattlesnake-skin challenge sent by Canonicus, the time of its occurrence has been shifted in the poem from January, 1622, when it really took place, to the date when the poem opens. The incident is historical, and has been brought in almost in the exact form in which it is recorded. The real occasion for the Captain’s expedition (488) was to rescue the neighboring settlement of Weymouth, which was threatened by the Indians in March, 1623. The chronicles mention the details of the encounter very much as given (745-815); also the trophy brought back by the Captain (818, 819). May 12th is mentioned as the date when the first marriage in the colony took place. The poet’s description of the ceremony (936-939) is based upon Bradford’s History: “May 12th was the first mariage in this place, which, according to ye laudable custome of ye Low Countries, in which they had lived, was thought most requisite to be performed by the magistrate, as being a civill thing, upon which many questions aboute inheritances doe depende, with other things most proper to their cognizans, and most consonant to ye Scriptures, Ruth 4, and no wher found in ye Gospell to be layed on ye ministers as part of their office.”
These are the main incidents that form the groundwork; but in addition to these there are numerous minor touches, names and facts from the old records, all which go to build up the narrative into a faithful historic picture. Such is the portrayal of Standish and his previous service in Holland. He had fought in Flanders (25) against the Spaniards (28); he had charge of the military organization in the Colony (46-93). The Indian names mentioned in 53 are found in the chronicles. The death of Rose Standish (136) is also mentioned. Other names and facts that in one way or another are matters of historic record are the “Psalm-book of Ainsworth,” printed in Amsterdam (231, 232); the seven houses of Plymouth (392); Wat Tyler (415); the Elder and his Words (442, 443 and 457); Stephen, Richard, and Gilbert (547); the Field of the First Encounter (606). “In autumn the ships of the merchants” (825)—this refers to the Anne and the Little James, which arrived in Plymouth in the autumn of 1623. “Still may be seen” (846): the descendants of Alden still own the lands where his house stood, in Duxbury. I. State what you can about the locality where the Pilgrims landed and settled. Give a description of it as you think it appeared to the immigrants in December, 1620. Could it have been an inviting place? How does this locality look in the spring, say early in April? II. State in what way the value of the poem as such would be changed if it were not connected with a historic event as momentous as that of the founding of the Plymouth Colony. What, then, besides the story of the three principal characters is there in the poem? State, with reasons for your views, which you regard the more significant,—the story as such, or the historic picture it presents. III. Find details in the poem that you regard as particularly faithful to history. Find touches that illustrate historic statements like this: “The pioneers [Puritans] were rugged, strong, and inspired by an unshakable faith in their mission in the New World.” (People’s History of the United States.) See, for instance, line 599. Point out several examples of the customs, habits, and views depicted that are historic in the same way. Quote lines portraying the religious character of the Puritans; their faith in their mission. Cite passages depicting the hardships of the preceding winter. Find strongly visualizing touches portraying their condition as settlers. Also instances showing their relations toward the red men. IV. What length of time is covered by the narrative? Point out the events in the first and the last part that fix the time. What difference do you find if you take the actual history of the events as the basis for computing the time? THE ACTION. The poem presents an artistically finished story, in which the action begins with a statement of a definite issue, and moves on through complication and suspenses to a complete solution. Hence it is well adapted for the study of plot. Every carefully constructed story begins with the presentation of an issue so contrived as to seize upon and arrest the attention of the reader. Something of momentous consequence to one or more of the characters is pending. The interests of the hero or the heroine are threatened by the interests of other characters. A collision between two opposing characters is unavoidable. The hero steps forward and enters upon a career clashing with the traditions and customs of his surroundings. His ambition sets up an aim and a purpose that cannot be attained without the risk of life or fortune. A struggle, at any rate, is impending and inevitable; and in the first situation of a well-constructed story the special nature of it is placed before the reader. At this point the action begins. It seizes upon the attention of the reader by causing him to project his thoughts forward in anticipation of the action completed, the solution of the problem. As he follows the story his interest in the struggle is heightened by finding obstacles that challenge the very best powers of the hero and the heroine, and test to the utmost their strength and courage. These obstacles give rise to situations fraught with special points of interest, rousing curiosity or giving glimpses of character or the secret workings of the soul which the composure of ordinary life does not afford. In the course of the story there are subtle touches or character hints which endear the hero to the reader. At this stage it is something more than a struggle waged between comparatively unknown forces—a strong human interest is added, so that the reader conceives strong wishes and consummations of his own with reference to the outcome. In a story there are several positions that determine the plot and mark the stages of the progress. These form the basis of its structure; and in the study of the plot they are very serviceable as points of departure. Thus we may recognize the point where we have sufficient introductory data to state the problem, or in other words, to formulate the issue. At what point do we feel prompted to wish for any certain kind of result to the struggle? What is the nature of the obstacles that aggravate and complicate the struggle? Do they rise subjectively out of the hero’s character, or are they brought in through the counterplay of other characters? At what point and through what occurrences does the story seem to point to a definite outcome? Through what means is the reader again led to entertain doubts and misgivings? In what way is the main problem solved? Is the struggle ended so that we feel that everything involved in the issue is fully terminated? In lines 85 and 86, John Alden’s hopes and desires are indicated, and we wonder, How shall he speed, and is the consummation to be such as he desires? Another step is reached in 155, where the action is complicated by an obstacle placed in his way. At this stage we have an opportunity to note a bit of the writer’s art if we observe the effect that this turn of events has. It certainly adds to the interest. But how? In the first place, we are anxious to know whether this obstacle will, against our wishes, cause the hopes of Alden to be frustrated. If we are in doubt as to whether it takes hold of us in this way, we have but to note that we are not content to leave the story at this point. In the second place, we are curious to know how Alden will acquit himself pleading with Priscilla in behalf of a rival suitor. And again, How will Priscilla receive the proffers of the Captain? The situation to which we immediately look forward has many elements adapted to seize strongly upon the reader’s attention. It will primarily be momentous in the fortunes of the principal characters; and it will, further, have features that in various other ways interest people. Up to this point Alden’s character has been developed in such a way that we are sure he cannot summarily set aside or ignore his promise to the Captain. The commission entrusted to him is bound to create a violent conflict in his mind between love on one side and friendship and conscience on the other. This conflict will be visually exhibited in the coming interview with Priscilla. In whatever way the interview as such terminates, we see that a series of interesting consequences must follow from it: as, for instance, Alden’s report to the Captain, the mood induced in the latter, and his subsequent course of action. Again, it cannot pass without resulting in some sort of counteraction on the part of the other two, thereby giving rise to situations that will tax all their loyalty and resourcefulness. I. What assurance have we that Alden will not attempt to ignore or evade his promise (245-248)? In what way is the situation made more intense by Priscilla’s welcome (251-253)? How does the preliminary conversation increase the difficulties of Alden’s errand? In the manner of delivering his message, is he influenced mainly by a sense of his obligation to the Captain or by the sentiments he entertains towards Priscilla? What is the dramatic effect of his abrupt departure? In what respect was the interview conclusive? At the close of the situation do we feel that the difficulties in Alden’s way are lessened or increased? How did Alden seem to feel in regard to this? II. What part of Alden’s report was the main cause of the Captain’s wrath? Had Alden anticipated the effect that his report would have? How does the arrival of the messenger (426) affect the plot? Is the incident of the council a part of the main action, or merely an episode? Why was it necessary at this stage that the Captain should be removed from the presence of the other two (484)? What personal interests of the various characters are pending or threatened at this point of the story? In what way is the central action still in a state of suspense after the Captain’s departure? Show how the suspense is to be accounted for by the disposition and character of Alden. In what way are the occurrences that take place during the Captain’s absence invested with interest (824-900)? IV. What is the decisive moment in the story? Explain the effect it will be likely to have on Alden and his course of action. In what way is the preceding situation a preparation for this moment? How does the poet make plain to us Alden’s previous sense of restraint as well as his present sense of freedom? V. What is the purpose of the information given in 949—“Long had it stood there,” etc.? What difference would it have made to one of Alden’s disposition if the person had presented himself before the ceremony? Could the action be regarded as quite complete without the reconciliation of all the main characters? THE CHARACTERS. Miles Standish and John Alden are introduced together, for the reason, no doubt, that the traits of the one may serve to set off those of the other. Miles Standish is a soldier by nature; and a lifetime spent in camp and field has brought out the soldier spirit in him in all its completeness. The character of John Alden is less marked, though it is made sufficiently intelligible, first by his employment as scribe and correspondent of the colonists, which leads us to infer that he was better fitted for the occupation of the scholar than for the struggles of the pioneer; secondly, his youth and delicate complexion are mentioned, and we gather that his physique is not robust nor hardened. The Puritan predominates in John Alden as the soldier does in Miles Standish. The latter attributes the saving of his life to the good steel of the breastplate, while the former attributes it to a direct interposition of the Lord in slackening the speed of the bullet. We feel that if Alden had been left to spend an anxious hour or two alone, he would have turned for consolation to the Bible and not to “the ponderous Roman.” The Captain is a man of strong personality and firm integrity. He is an organizer of the colony’s defense; his voice prevails at the council; he is a resolute and able defender, who rises equal to emergencies of sudden and imminent danger. He is also capable of entertaining sentiments of tenderness (58-60) and magnanimity (949-973). Yet the author has indicated that, in the conventional sense, he is not to be taken as the hero. The personal description of him (11) points to this; so also his almost ludicrous inconsistency (36-115 and 163-168). His avowed affection for Priscilla could not have struck deep roots in his heart, for only two or three months have passed since he sustained the loss that made his life “weary and dreary” (36). Moreover, this matter could not have been upper-most in his mind very long, for he would then have observed that Alden had frequently gone on a lover’s errand in his own behalf (252-258). Neither could his inclinations have been very ardent, for while Alden is gone he spends the hours without anxiety, absorbed in the campaigns of CÆsar. He misunderstands and underestimates the sterling nature of Priscilla when he thinks that the winning of her is largely and mainly a matter of phrases (169) and elegant language, “such as you read of in books in the pleadings and wooings of lovers.” All this helps us to become reconciled to the Captain’s discomfiture. John Alden is the most typical Puritan of the leading characters. His tendency towards a fatalistic view of life and to self-accusation seem almost too strange to be accounted for by any doctrine or belief. As a Puritan he had been brought up and trained in submission to his elders, which may partly explain his lack of self-assertion. His position as a dependent in the household of Miles Standish made him more ready than he otherwise could have been to go on the Captain’s delicate errand. There are situations in which we find Alden insufficient (182, 558, 559). He has little opportunity, in so far that the part assigned to him is mainly passive. Yet there are possibilities of stern manhood in him; and, with reference to the main issue, he is certainly strong in those very respects where Miles Standish is weak. Priscilla presents a contrast to the other two. She is full of healthy, joyous life. Neither the sternness of her associates nor the hardships of the pioneer life that she had experienced had been able to detract from her cheerful, buoyant disposition. During the winter she had become an orphan, and yet she appears to have been potent as a ray of sunshine amid the gloom and distress incident to the condition of the colonists. The fact that she is a trifle more frank in her conversation with John Alden than strict conventional form would require detracts nothing, but rather places her among such ideals of women as Miranda, Imogen, and Elaine. I. In the first eighty lines designate the means used in describing Miles Standish. Which reveals his character most effectively—the author’s direct description of him, his talk, his weapons, or his books? Are there any details in this description that you would like to see altered if the Captain were to be the hero of the story? The Miles Standish of history is said to have been thirty-six years at this time; in what direction has the poet changed his age? Why? II. What position of authority does Standish hold in the colony? Why has the poet made him and Alden household companions (15)? What character-contrast in 25-33? Why should the maxim of line 37 be reiterated (114)? How does the Captain’s inconsistency (164) affect the tone of the narrative? Is the reply in 168 to the point? How does the Captain’s reliance on phrases and elegant language change our opinion of him? III. How does line 398 square with lines 173, 174? What had been the Captain’s state of mind during Alden’s absence? What effects measure to us the degree of his anger after having listened to Alden’s report? What motives induced the Captain to start in pursuit of hostile Indians (486)? Hoes this expedition seem to have been most likely to insure the safety of the colony? What evidence have we later on of the Captain’s magnanimity? As he is not in the conventional sense the hero of the story, what purpose, from the point of view of the action, does he serve? IV. In the character portrayal of 1-86, which are the main points of contrast between Miles Standish and John Alden? What appears to be the age of Alden? In describing him, why does the author use more poetic terms (17-20) than he does in the case of Standish? Was Alden commissioned by others of the colonists to write letters for them? What single fact makes clear the sentiments he entertains towards Priscilla? Had they been acquainted before they left England? V. How can we account for Alden’s yielding to the Captain’s request? What other courses of action were open to him? “Then made answer John Alden” (181)—continue here, and in half a dozen lines write the answer you think he should have made. After leaving the Captain, what motives hold him to the fulfillment of his promise (185-248)? Was his blunt manner of delivering the message (288) deliberate, or was he so overcome that he could not do it otherwise? VI. What exactly is the cause of his distress as told in 339-342? Comment on the frankness of the report he submits. Should he not have attempted to explain and to set himself right? Interpret the mood visualized in 558, 559. Does he seem to have a sufficient reason for “thinking to fly from despair” (562)? Would it be a better story if Alden had been given an opportunity for active heroism? What in his character is most admirable? VII. Did Priscilla belong to those Puritans that had lived for some years in Holland (269)? What suggestions have we regarding Priscilla before lines 223-238? In the description (223-238) what traits are made most prominent? Explain in what respect her disposition seems to be in sharp contrast to that of Alden (293-338). At what point and under what conditions does Priscilla’s influence show itself most powerful? What do we learn of her from her words in 667-680? At what point in the story and in what way is her character most exquisitely drawn? Which of the three characters had passed through the saddest experiences since the landing at Plymouth?
THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH. I.
MILES STANDISH. In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims, To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling, Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather, Strode, with martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain. Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing 5 Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare, Hanging in shining array along the walls of his chamber,— Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus, Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence, While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket and matchlock. 10 Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic, Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron; Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November. Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion, 15 Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window; Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion, Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, “Not Angles but Angels.” Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower. 20 Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting, Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth. “Look at these arms,” he said, “the warlike weapons that hang here Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection! This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,—25 Well I remember the day!—once saved my life in a skirmish; Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero. Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish Would at this moment be mold, in their grave in the Flemish morasses.” 30 Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing: “Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet; He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!” Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling: “See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging; 35 That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others. Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage; So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn. Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army, Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock, 40 Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage, And, like CÆsar, I know the name of each of my soldiers!” This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment. Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued: 45 “Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer planted High on the roof of the church, a preacher who speaks to the purpose, Steady, straightforward, and strong, with irresistible logic, Orthodox, flashing conviction right into the hearts of the heathen. Now we are ready, I think, for any assault of the Indians: 50 And the sooner they try it the better,— Let them come if they like, be it sagamore, sachem, or pow-wow, Aspinet, Samoset, Corbitant, Squanto, or Tokamahamon!” Long at the window he stood, and wistfully gazed on the landscape, Washed with a cold gray mist, the vapory breath of the east-wind, 55 Forest and meadow and hill, and the steel-blue rim of the ocean, Lying silent and sad, in the afternoon shadows and sunshine. Over his countenance flitted a shadow like those on the landscape, Gloom intermingled with light; and his voice was subdued with emotion, Tenderness, pity, regret, as after a pause he proceeded:60 “Yonder there, on the hill by the sea, lies buried Rose Standish; Beautiful rose of love, that bloomed for me by the wayside! She was the first to die of all who came in the Mayflower! Green above her is growing the field of wheat we have sown there, Better to hide from the Indian scouts the graves of our people, 65 Lest they should count them and see how many already have perished!” Sadly his face he averted, and strode up and down, and was thoughtful. Fixed to the opposite wall was a shelf of books, and among them Prominent three, distinguished alike for bulk and for binding: Barriffe’s Artillery Guide, and the Commentaries of CÆsar, 70 Out of the Latin translated by Arthur Goldinge of London, And, as if guarded by these, between them was standing the Bible. Musing a moment before them, Miles Standish paused, as if doubtful Which of the three he should choose for his consolation and comfort, Whether the wars of the Hebrews, the famous campaigns of the Romans, 75 Or the Artillery practice, designed for belligerent Christians. Finally down from its shelf he dragged the ponderous Roman, Seated himself at the window, and opened the book, and in silence Turned o’er the well-worn leaves, where thumb-marks thick on the margin, Like the trample of feet, proclaimed the battle was hottest. 80 Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling, Busily writing epistles important, to go by the Mayflower, Ready to sail on the morrow, or next day at latest, God willing! Homeward bound with the tidings of all that terrible winter, Letters written by Alden, and full of the name of Priscilla, 85 Full of the name and the fame of the Puritan maiden Priscilla! II.
LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling, Or an occasional sigh from the laboring heart of the Captain, Reading the marvelous words and achievements of Julius CÆsar. After a while he exclaimed, as he smote with his hand, palm downwards, 90 Heavily on the page: “A wonderful man was this CÆsar! You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but here is a fellow Who could both write and fight, and in both was equally skillful!” Straightway answered and spake John Alden, the comely, the youthful: “Yes, he was equally skilled, as you say, with his pen and his weapons. 95 Somewhere have I read, but where I forget, he could dictate Seven letters at once, at the same time writing his memoirs.” “Truly,” continued the Captain, not heeding or hearing the other, “Truly a wonderful man was this Caius Julius CÆsar! ‘Better be first,’ he said, ‘in a little Iberian village, 100 Than be second in Rome,’ and I think he was right when he said it. Twice was he married before he was twenty, and many times after; Battles five hundred he fought, and a thousand cities he conquered; He, too, fought in Flanders, as he himself has recorded; Finally he was stabbed by his friend, the orator Brutus!105 Now, do you know what he did on a certain occasion in Flanders, When the rear guard of his army retreated, the front giving way too, And the immortal Twelfth Legion was crowded so closely together There was no room for their swords? Why, he seized a shield from a soldier, Put himself straight at the head of his troops, and commanded the captains, 110 Calling on each by his name, to order forward the ensigns; Then to widen the ranks, and give more room for their weapons; So he won the day, the battle of something-or-other. That’s what I always say; if you wish a thing to be well done, You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!” 115 All was silent again; the Captain continued his reading. Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling Writing epistles important to go next day by the Mayflower, Filled with the name and the fame of the Puritan maiden Priscilla; Every sentence began or closed with the name of Priscilla, 120 Till the treacherous pen, to which he confided the secret, Strove to betray it by singing and shouting the name of Priscilla! Finally closing his book, with a bang of the ponderous cover, Sudden and loud as the sound of a soldier grounding his musket, Thus to the young man spake Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth: 125 “When you have finished your work, I have something important to tell you. Be not, however, in haste; I can wait; I shall not be impatient!” Straightway Alden replied, as he folded the last of his letters, Pushing his papers aside, and giving respectful attention: “Speak; for whenever you speak, I am always ready to listen, 130 Always ready to hear whatever pertains to Miles Standish.” Thereupon answered the Captain, embarrassed, and culling his phrases: “’Tis not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures. This I have said before, and again and again I repeat it; Every hour in the day, I think it, and feel it, and say it. 135 Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary; Sick at heart have I been, beyond the healing of friendship. Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of the maiden Priscilla. She is alone in the world; her father and mother and brother Died in the winter together; I saw her going and coming, 140 Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the bed of the dying, Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to myself, that if ever There were angels on earth, as there are angels in heaven, Two have I seen and known; and the angel whose name is Priscilla Holds in my desolate life the place which the other abandoned.145 Long have I cherished the thought, but never have dared to reveal it, Being a coward in this, though valiant enough for the most part. Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of Plymouth, Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of words but of actions, Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and heart of a soldier. 150 Not in these words, you know, but this in short is my meaning; I am a maker of war, and not a maker of phrases. You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in elegant language, Such as you read in your books of the pleadings and wooings of lovers, Such as you think best adapted to win the heart of a maiden.” 155 When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired, taciturn stripling, All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewildered, Trying to mask his dismay by treating the subject with lightness, Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart stand still in his bosom, Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is stricken by lightning,160 Thus made answer and spake, or rather stammered than answered: “Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and mar it; If you would have it well done,—I am only repeating your maxim,— You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!” But with the air of a man whom nothing can turn from his purpose, 165 Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Captain of Plymouth: “Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to gainsay it; But we must use it discreetly, and not waste powder for nothing. Now, as I said before, I was never a maker of phrases. I can march up to a fortress and summon the place to surrender, 170 But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not. I’m not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon, But of a thundering ‘No!’ point-blank from the mouth of a woman, That, I confess, I’m afraid of, nor am I ashamed to confess it! So you must grant my request, for you are an elegant scholar, 175 Having the graces of speech, and skill in the turning of phrases.” Taking the hand of his friend, who still was reluctant and doubtful, Holding it long in his own, and pressing it kindly, he added: “Though I have spoken thus lightly, yet deep is the feeling that prompts me; Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the name of our friendship!” 180 Then made answer John Alden: “The name of friendship is sacred; What you demand in that name, I have not the power to deny you!” So the strong will prevailed, subduing and molding the gentler, Friendship prevailed over love, and Alden went on his errand. III.
THE LOVER’S ERRAND. So the strong will prevailed, and Alden went on his errand,185 Out of the street of the village, and into the paths of the forest. Into the tranquil woods, where bluebirds and robins were building Towns in the populous trees, with hanging gardens of verdure, Peaceful, aerial cities of joy and affection and freedom. All around him was calm, but within him commotion and conflict, 190 Love contending with friendship, and self with each generous impulse. To and fro in his breast his thoughts were heaving and dashing, As in a foundering ship, with every roll of the vessel, Washes the bitter sea, the merciless surge of the ocean! “Must I relinquish it all,” he cried with a wild lamentation,—195 “Must I relinquish it all, the joy, the hope, the illusion? Was it for this I have loved, and waited, and worshiped in silence? Was it for this I have followed the flying feet and the shadow Over the wintry sea, to the desolate shores of New England? Truly the heart is deceitful, and out of its depths of corruption 200 Rise, like an exhalation, the misty phantoms of passion; Angels of light they seem, but are only delusions of Satan. All is clear to me now; I feel it, I see it distinctly! This is the hand of the Lord; it is laid upon me in anger, For I have followed too much the heart’s desires and devices, 205 Worshiping Astaroth blindly, and impious idols of Baal. This is the cross I must bear; the sin and the swift retribution.” So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went on his errand; Crossing the brook at the ford, where it brawled over pebble and shallow, Gathering still, as he went, the mayflowers blooming around him, 210 Fragrant, filling the air with a strange and wonderful sweetness, Children lost in the woods, and covered with leaves in their slumber. “Puritan flowers,” he said, “and the type of Puritan maidens, Modest and simple and sweet, the very type of Priscilla! So I will take them to her; to Priscilla the mayflower of Plymouth, 215 Modest and simple and sweet, as a parting gift will I take them; Breathing their silent farewells, as they fade and wither and perish, Soon to be thrown away as is the heart of the giver.” So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went on his errand; Came to an open space, and saw the disk of the ocean,220 Sailless, somber and cold with the comfortless breath of the east-wind; Saw the new-built house, and people at work in a meadow; Heard, as he drew near the door, the musical voice of Priscilla Singing the hundredth Psalm, the grand old Puritan anthem, Music that Luther sang to the sacred words of the Psalmist, 225 Full of the breath of the Lord, consoling and comforting many. Then, as he opened the door, he beheld the form of the maiden Seated beside her wheel, and the carded wool like a snow-drift Piled at her knee, her white hands feeding the ravenous spindle, While with her foot on the treadle she guided the wheel in its motion. 230 Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of Ainsworth, Printed in Amsterdam, the words and the music together. Rough-hewn, angular notes, like stones in the Avail of a churchyard, Darkened and overhung by the running vine of the verses. Such was the book from whose pages she sang the old Puritan anthem, 235 She, the Puritan girl, in the solitude of the forest, Making the humble house and the modest apparel of homespun Beautiful with her beauty, and rich with the wealth of her being! Over him rushed, like a wind that is keen and cold and relentless, Thoughts of what might have been, and the weight and woe of his errand; 240 All the dreams that had faded, and all the hopes that had vanished, All his life henceforth a dreary and tenantless mansion, Haunted by vain regrets, and pallid, sorrowful faces. Still he said to himself, and almost fiercely he said it, “Let not him that putteth his hand to the plow look backwards; 245 Though the plowshare cut through the flowers of life to its fountains, Though it pass o’er the graves of the dead and the hearths of the living, It is the will of the Lord; and his mercy endureth forever!” So he entered the house; and the hum of the wheel and the singing Suddenly ceased; for Priscilla, aroused by his step on the threshold, 250 Rose as he entered, and gave him her hand, in signal of welcome, Saying, “I knew it was you, when I heard your step in the passage; For I was thinking of you, as I sat there singing and spinning.” Awkward and dumb with delight, that a thought of him had been mingled Thus in the sacred psalm, that came from the heart of the maiden, 255 Silent before her he stood, and gave her the flowers for an answer, Finding no words for his thought. He remembered that day in the winter, After the first great snow, when he broke a path from the village, Reeling and plunging along through the drifts that encumbered the doorway, Stamping the snow from his feet as he entered the house, and Priscilla 260 Laughed at his snowy locks, and gave him a seat by the fireside, Grateful and pleased to know he had thought of her in the snow-storm. Had he but spoken then, perhaps not in vain had he spoken! Now it was all too late; the golden moment had vanished! So he stood there abashed, and gave her the flowers for an answer. 265 Then they sat down and talked of the birds and the beautiful springtime; Talked of their friends at home, and the Mayflower that sailed on the morrow. “I have been thinking all day,” said gently the Puritan maiden, “Dreaming all night, and thinking all day, of the hedgerows of England,— They are in blossom now, and the country is all like a garden; 270 Thinking of lanes and fields, and the song of the lark and the linnet, Seeing the village street, and familiar faces of neighbors Going about as of old, and stopping to gossip together, And, at the end of the street, the village church, with the ivy Climbing the old gray tower, and the quiet graves in the churchyard. 275 Kind are the people I live with, and dear to me my religion; Still my heart is so sad, that I wish myself back in Old England. You will say it is wrong, but I cannot help it: I almost Wish myself back in Old England, I feel so lonely and wretched.” Thereupon answered the youth: “Indeed I do not condemn you; 280 Stouter hearts than a woman’s have quailed in this terrible winter. Yours is tender and trusting, and needs a stronger to lean on; So I have come to you now, with an offer and proffer of marriage Made by a good man and true, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth!” Thus he delivered his message, the dexterous writer of letters,—285 Did not embellish the theme, nor array it in beautiful phrases, But came straight to the point, and blurted it out like a schoolboy; Even the Captain himself could hardly have said it more bluntly. Mute with amazement and sorrow, Priscilla the Puritan maiden Looked into Alden’s face, her eyes dilated with wonder,290 Feeling his words like a blow, that stunned her and rendered her speechless; Till at length she exclaimed, interrupting the ominous silence: “If the great Captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me, Why does he not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me? If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning!” 295 Then John Alden began explaining and smoothing the matter, Making it worse as he went, by saying the Captain was busy,— Had no time for such things;—such things! the words grating harshly Fell on the ear of Priscilla; and swift as a flash she made answer: “Has he no time for such things, as you call it, before he is married, 300 Would he be likely to find it, or make it, after the wedding? That is the way with you men; you don’t understand us, you cannot. When you have made up your minds, after thinking of this one and that one, Choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing one with another, Then you make known your desire, with abrupt and sudden avowal, 305 And are offended and hurt, and indignant perhaps, that a woman Does not respond at once to a love that she never suspected, Does not attain at a bound to the height to which you have been climbing. This is not right nor just; for surely a woman’s affection Is not a thing to be asked for, and had for only the asking. 310 When one is truly in love, one not only says it, but shows it. Had he but waited a while, had he only showed that he loved me, Even this Captain of yours—who knows?—at last might have won me, Old and rough as he is; but now it never can happen.” Still John Alden went on, unheeding the words of Priscilla,315 Urging the suit of his friend, explaining, persuading, expanding; Spo
ke of his courage and skill, and of all his battles in Flanders, How with the people of God he had chosen to suffer affliction, How, in return for his zeal, they had made him Captain of Plymouth; He was a gentleman born, could trace his pedigree plainly 320 Back to Hugh Standish of Duxbury Hall, in Lancashire, England, Who was the son of Ralph, and the grandson of Thurston de Standish; Heir unto vast estates, of which he was basely defrauded, Still bore the family arms, and had for his crest a cock argent Combed and wattled gules, and all the rest of the blazon. 325 He was a man of honor, of noble and generous nature; Though he was rough, he was kindly; she knew how during the winter He had attended the sick, with a hand as gentle as woman’s; Somewhat hasty and hot, he could not deny it, and headstrong, Stern as a soldier might be, but hearty, and placable always, 330 Not to be laughed at and scorned, because he was little of stature; For he was great of heart, magnanimous, courtly, courageous; Any woman in Plymouth, nay, any woman in England, Might be happy and proud to be called the wife of Miles Standish! But as he warmed and glowed, in his simple and eloquent language, 335 Quite forgetful of self, and full of the praise of his rival, Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes overrunning with laughter, Said, in a tremulous voice, “Why don’t you speak for yourself, John?” IV.
JOHN ALDEN.
VI.
PRISCILLA. Thus for a while he stood, and mused by the shore of the ocean, Thinking of many things, and most of all of Priscilla; And as if thought had the power to draw to itself, like the loadstone, Whatsoever it touches, by subtle laws of its nature, 630 Lo! as he turned to depart, Priscilla was standing beside him. “Are you so much offended, you will not speak to me?” said she. “Am I so much to blame, that yesterday, when you were pleading Warmly the cause of another, my heart, impulsive and wayward, Pleaded your own, and spake out, forgetful perhaps of decorum? 635 Certainly you can forgive me for speaking so frankly, for saying What I ought not to have said, yet now I can never unsay it; For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion, That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, 640 Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together. Yesterday I was shocked, when I heard you speak of Miles Standish, Praising his virtues, transforming his very defects into virtues, Praising his courage and strength, and even his fighting in Flanders, As if by fighting alone you could win the heart of a woman, 645 Quite overlooking yourself and the rest, in exalting your hero. Therefore I spake as I did, by an irresistible impulse. You will forgive me, I hope, for the sake of the friendship between us, Which is too true and too sacred to be so easily broken!” Thereupon answered John Alden, the scholar, the friend of Miles Standish: 650 “I was not angry with you, with myself alone I was angry, Seeing how badly I managed the matter I had in my keeping.” “No!” interrupted the maiden, with answer prompt and decisive; “No; you were angry with me, for speaking so frankly and freely. It was wrong, I acknowledge; for it is the fate of a woman 655 Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a ghost that is speechless, Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell of its silence. Hence is the inner life of so many suffering women Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean rivers Running through caverns of darkness, unheard, unseen, and unfruitful, 660 Chafing their channels of stone, with endless and profitless murmurs.” Thereupon answered John Alden, the young man, the lover of women: “Heaven forbid it, Priscilla; and truly they seem to me always More like the beautiful rivers that watered the garden of Eden, More like the river Euphrates, through deserts of Havilah flowing, 665 Filling the land with delight, and memories sweet of the garden!” “All, by these words, I can see,” again interrupted the maiden, “How very little you prize me, or care for what I am saying. When from the depths of my heart, in pain and with secret misgiving, Frankly I speak to you, asking for sympathy only and kindness, 670 Straightway you take up my words, that are plain and direct and in earnest, Turn them away from their meaning, and answer with flattering phrases. This is not right, is not just, is not true to the best that is in you; For I know and esteem you, and feel that your nature is noble, Lifting mine up to a higher, a more ethereal level. 675 Therefore I value your friendship, and feel it perhaps the more keenly If you say aught that implies I am only as one among many, If you make use of those common and complimentary phrases Most men think so fine, in dealing and speaking with women, But which women reject as insipid, if not as insulting.”680 Mute and amazed was Alden; and listened and looked at Priscilla, Thinking he never had seen her more fair, more divine in her beauty. He who but yesterday pleaded so glibly the cause of another, Stood there embarrassed and silent, and seeking in vain for an answer. So the maiden went on, and little divined or imagined 685 What was at work in his heart, that made him so awkward and speechless. “Let us, then, be what we are, and speak what we think, and in all things Keep ourselves loyal to truth, and the sacred professions of friendship. It is no secret I tell you, nor am I ashamed to declare it: I have liked to be with you, to see you, to speak with you always. 690 So I was hurt at your words, and a little affronted to hear you Urge me to marry your friend, though he were the Captain Miles Standish. For I must tell you the truth: much more to me is your friendship Than all the love he could give, were he twice the hero you think him.” Then she extended her hand, and Alden, who eagerly grasped it, 695 Felt all the wounds in his heart, that were aching and bleeding so sorely, Healed by the touch of that hand, and he said, with a voice full of feeling: “Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest, and dearest!” Casting a farewell look at the glimmering sail of the Mayflower 700 Distant, but still in sight, and sinking below the horizon, Homeward together they walked, with a strange, indefinite feeling, That all the rest had departed and left them alone in the desert. But, as they went through the fields in the blessing and smile of the sunshine, Lighter grew their hearts, and Priscilla said very archly:705 “Now that our terrible Captain has gone in pursuit of the Indians, Where he is happier far than he would be commanding a household, You may speak boldly, and tell me of all that happened between you, When you returned last night, and said how ungrateful you found me.” Thereupon answered John Alden, and told her the whole of the story,— 710 Told her his own despair, and the direful wrath of Miles Standish. Whereat the maiden smiled, and said between laughing and earnest, “He is a little chimney, and heated hot in a moment!” But as he gently rebuked her, and told her how much he had suffered,— How he had even determined to sail that day in the Mayflower, 715 And had remained for her sake, on hearing the dangers that threatened,— All her manner was changed, and she said with a faltering accent, “Truly I thank you for this: how good you have been to me always!” Thus, as a pilgrim devout, who toward Jerusalem journeys, Taking three steps in advance, and one reluctantly backward, 720 Urged by importunate zeal, and withheld by pangs of contrition; Slowly but steadily onward, receding yet ever advancing, Journeyed this Puritan youth to the Holy Land of his longings, Urged by the fervor of love, and withheld by remorseful misgivings.
VII.
THE MARCH OF MILES STANDISH. Meanwhile the stalwart Miles Standish was marching steadily northward, 725 Winding through forest and swamp, and along the trend of the seashore, All day long, with hardly a halt, the fire of his anger Burning and crackling within, and the sulphurous odor of powder Seeming more sweet to his nostrils than all the scents of the forest. Silent and moody he went, and much he revolved his discomfort; 730 He who was used to success, and to easy victories always, Thus to be flouted, rejected, and laughed to scorn by a maiden, Thus to be mocked and betrayed by the friend whom most he had trusted! Ah! ’twas too much to be borne, and he fretted and chafed in his armor! “I alone am to blame,” he muttered, “for mine was the folly. 735 What has a rough old soldier, grown grim and gray in the harness, Used to the camp and its ways, to do with the wooing of maidens? ’Twas but a dream,—let it pass,—let it vanish like so many others! What I thought was a flower, is only a weed, and is worthless; Out of my heart will I pluck it, and throw it away, and henceforward 740 Be but a fighter of battles, a lover and wooer of dangers!” Thus he revolved in his mind his sorry defeat and discomfort, While he was marching by day or lying at night in the forest, Looking up at the trees and the constellations beyond them. After a three days’ march he came to an Indian encampment 745 Pitched on the edge of a meadow, between the sea and the forest; Women at work by the tents, and the warriors, horrid with warpaint, Seated about a fire, and smoking and talking together; Who, when they saw from afar the sudden approach of the white men, Saw the flash of the sun on breastplate and saber and musket, 750 Straightway leaped to their feet, and two, from among them advancing, Came to parley with Standish, and offer him furs as a present; Friendship was in their looks, but in their hearts there was hatred. Braves of the tribe were these, and brothers, gigantic in stature, Huge as Goliath of Gath, or the terrible Og, king of Bashan; 755 One was Pecksuot named, and the other was called Wattawamat. Round their necks were suspended their knives in scabbards of wampum, Two-edged trenchant knives, with points as sharp as a needle. Other arms had they none, for they were cunning and crafty. “Welcome, English!” they said,—these words they had learned from the traders760 Touching at times on the coast, to barter and chaffer for peltries. Then in their native tongue they begun to parley with Standish, Through his guide and interpreter, Hobomok, friend of the white man, Begging for blankets and knives, but mostly for muskets and powder, Kept by the white man, they said, concealed, with the plague, in his cellars, 765 Ready to be let loose, and destroy his brother the red man! But when Standish refused, and said he would give them the Bible, Suddenly changing their tone, they began to boast and to bluster. Then Wattawamat advanced with a stride in front of the other, And, with a lofty demeanor, thus vauntingly spake to the Captain: 770 “Now Wattawamat can see, by the fiery eyes of the Captain, Angry is he in his heart; but the heart of the brave Wattawamat Is not afraid at the sight. He was not born of a woman, But on a mountain, at night, from an oak-tree riven by lightning, Forth he sprang at a bound, with all his weapons about him, 775 Shouting, ‘Who is there here to fight with the brave Wattawamat?’” Then he unsheathed his knife, and, whetting the blade on his left hand, Held it aloft and displayed a woman’s face on the handle, Saying, with bitter expression and look of sinister meaning: “I have another at home, with the face of a man on the handle; 780 By-and-by they shall marry; and there will be plenty of children!” Then stood Pecksuot forth, self-vaunting, insulting Miles Standish; While with his fingers he patted the knife that hung at his bosom, Drawing it half from its sheath, and plunging it back, as he muttered, “By-and-by it shall see; it shall eat; ah, ha! but shall speak not! 785 This is the mighty Captain the white men have sent to destroy us! He is a little man; let him go and work with the women!” Meanwhile Standish had noted the faces and figures of Indians Peeping and creeping about from bush to tree in the forest, Feigning to look for game, with arrows set on their bowstrings, 790 Drawing about him still closer and closer the net of their ambush. But undaunted he stood, and dissembled and treated them smoothly; So the old chronicles say, that were writ in the days of the fathers. But when he heard their defiance, the boast, the taunt, and the insult, All the hot blood of his race, of Sir Hugh and of Thurston de Standish, 795 Boiled and beat in his heart, and swelled in the veins of his temples. Headlong he leaped on the boaster, and, snatching his knife from its scabbard, Plunged it into his heart, and, reeling backward, the savage Fell with his face to the sky, and a fiendlike fierceness upon it. Straight there arose from the forest the awful sound of the war-whoop, 800 And, like a flurry of snow on the whistling wind of December, Swift and sudden and keen came a flight of feathery arrows. Then came a cloud of smoke, and out of the cloud came the lightning, Out of the lightning thunder; and death unseen ran before it. Frightened, the savages fled for shelter in swamp and in thicket, 805 Hotly pursued and beset; but their sachem, the brave Wattawamat, Fled not; he was dead. Unswerving and swift had a bullet Passed through his brain, and he fell with both hands clutching the greensward, Seeming in death to hold back from his foe the land of his fathers. There on the flowers of the meadow the warriors lay, and above them 810 Silent, with folded arms, stood Hobomok, friend of the white man. Smiling at length he exclaimed to the stalwart Captain of Plymouth: “Pecksuot bragged very loud, of his courage, his strength, and his stature,— Mocked the great Captain, and called him a little man; but I see now Big enough have you been to lay him speechless before you!” 815 Thus the first battle was fought and won by the stalwart Miles Standish. When the tidings thereof were brought to the village of Plymouth, And as a trophy of war the head of the brave Wattawamat Scowled from the roof of the fort, which at once was a church and a fortress, All who beheld it rejoiced, and praised the Lord, and took courage. 820 Only Priscilla averted her face from this specter of terror, Thanking God in her heart that she had not married Miles Standish; Shrinking, fearing almost, lest, coming home from his battles, He should lay claim to her hand, as the prize and reward of his valor. VIII.
THE SPINNING-WHEEL.
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