‘Calm on the bosom of thy God,
Young spirit! rest thee now!
E'en while with us thy footsteps trod
His seat was on thy brow.
Dust to its narrow house beneath!
Soul to its place on high!
They that have seen thy look in death,
No more may fear to die.
Lone are the paths, and sad the bowers,
Whence thy meek smile is gone
But oh! a brighter borne than ours,
In Heaven, is now thine own.' HEMANS.
We have observed that very few deaths took place in the colony of New
Plymouth during the second year of their exile, and after the fatal
stroke that deprived them of their President; but among those few,
there was one that carried grief and desolation into the hearts of the
family with whom our story is chiefly connected, and who were already
deeply afflicted by the loss of the first-born. Ludovico Maitland had
always been a delicate child, and on him, consequently, the care and
attention of his mother had been principally bestowed. Helen had
watched and tended him through all the severities of the first winters
in the New World, and many had been the privations that she had
voluntarily endured, unknown even to Rodolph, who would not have
suffered her thus to risk her own health, in order to add to the
comforts of her youngest and most helpless child. When the blessed
springtime came, and all nature began again to smile, she hoped that
Ludovico would also be renovated, and bloom again like the flowers he
loved so well. And her hopes appeared to be realized: for the sweet
playful child resumed his sports, and the bright color again glowed on
his soft cheek; and his parents deemed it the hue of health.
At the time when Henrich was stolen away, the little fellow had been
remarkably well, and even Helen's fears for him had almost subsided;
but, whether it was the effect of the shock that he sustained when he
saw his brother seized by the fierce savages, and torn away from him,
and when he fled so breathlessly to tell the fearful tidings; or
whether it was merely the result of his own delicate constitution,
which could no longer bear up against the change of climate and food--
from that time, he visibly declined. It is true he never complained,
and his cheerful spirits were unaltered; but the watchful eye of
affection could trace the insidious steps of disease in the changing
color, and the too frequently brilliant eye.
Since Edith had lost her constant friend and companion, Henrich, she
naturally devoted herself more to her younger brother, and little
Ludovico became not only her lively play-fellow, but also her
intelligent pupil; and the occupation which she found in the care of
the engaging child served to divert her mind from the first real grief
she had ever known. Her mother's sorrow, though borne with the most
perfect resignation, had greatly affected her health; and as she had
entire confidence in Edith's steadiness, she was glad to leave the care
of Ludovico principally to her, especially when she observed the good
effect which the new responsibility had on her spirits. The two
children were, therefore, left much to themselves; and, with their
mother's sanction they passed a great portion of their time at the camp
of Mooanam, where they were always most kindly received, and where they
made rapid progress in acquiring the language, and also many of the
useful and ingenious arts, of their swarthy friends.
The departure of Coubitant and his savage band, after their cruel
design against the peace of Rodolph's family had been accomplished,
removed all fears of injury or molestation from the minds of the
settlers; for no hostile Indians now remained in their immediate
neighborhood, and the path from New Plymouth to the village of the
friendly Wampanoges became a beaten and frequented track; so that Edith
and her little charge could go to and fro in safety, under the
protection of Fingal, a magnificent dog belonging to their father, and
their constant companion and playfellow; and frequently they were
accompanied, on their return to the British village, by the Chieftain's
wife, Apannow, and her little boy, Nepea, who was the darling of both
Edith and Ludovico.
A strong attachment also sprang up between Apannow and Helen; for the
Squaw-Sachem was possessed of much natural gentleness of disposition,
and was most ready to adopt all those habits of civilized life that she
saw practiced among her English friends, and that it was possible for
her to transplant to her Indian home. She was, likewise, willing to
listen to the doctrines and precepts of the Gospel, and to admit their
beauty and their holiness, although it was long--very long--ere she, or
any of the adults of her tribe, were so far converted to the Christian
truth as to be either desirous or fit to be baptized. But there was no
bigotry or opposition in the mind of Apannow; and she became a kind and
sympathizing friend to Helen and to her children.
Rodolph was necessarily much engaged in agricultural occupations, and
also in the business of the government, as he was one of the council
who were appointed to assist the President, and to share the labors and
responsibilities of his frequently very difficult office. The gradual
change in little Ludovico's health was, therefore, not so soon observed
by his father as by Helen and Edith; and when he returned to his much-
loved home after the toils and cares of the day, his wife forbore to
arouse fresh anxiety in his breast, by telling him of her own fears.
On the contrary, she rejoiced to see the pleasure and animation that
lighted up the sweet child's expressive countenance, as he ran to meet
his father, and the happiness of both as they played under the wide-
spreading trees that shaded their now luxuriant garden. At such times,
while listening to Ludovico's ringing laugh, and watching his light
footsteps as he chased his father and Edith from tree to tree, she
flattered herself that all must be well with the joyous child, and that
her apprehensions were unfounded. But, again, when the following day
found him pale and exhausted, and all the more so for the excitement
and exercise of the previous evening, these foreboding fears would
return, and her heart would sink heavily at the prospect of the coming
woe.
The short summer of North America attained its height; and, as the heat
increased, so did Ludovico's young life wane away, and his strength
become daily less. Rudolph now saw, as plainly as his afflicted wife,
that their only remaining son was soon to be taken from them; and he
strove to arm both himself and her with the only power that could
support them under such an aggravated calamity. He constantly led her
to look only to Him who 'gave,' and who also 'takes away,' and without
whom 'not a sparrow falleth to the ground'; and to trust Him even in
the depth of sorrow: and he had the satisfaction of seeing her become
more and more resigned, and more and more strong in faith to meet the
coming trial.
Slowly and gently it came; but it came at last: and though his parents
and his sister had long given up all hope of retaining their loved
Ludovico on earth, and had endeavored to resign him into the hands of
his Heavenly Father, yet, when the blow came, they felt it sudden, and
found how little they were prepared for it. One warm summer evening
the sweet child was carried by Rodolph to Edith's bower, that he might
look once more at the flowers he had helped to plant and to tend; and
his soft eyes seemed to take a last farewell of every cherished object,
and to follow the setting sun with a fixed gaze, that said those eyes
would never see it set again. But there was no sadness--no regret--in
the gentle countenance; and the infantine lips still smiled, as they
whispered the evening prayer that he had so often repeated with Edith.
Young as he was, Ludovico had learnt to love his Redeemer, and to feel
that to 'depart, and be with Christ, was far better than to abide on
earth; and the 'valley of the shadow or death,' which the Lord so
mercifully made easy to his flesh, had no terrors for his young spirit.
Could his parents, then--could even his broken-hearted sister--bear to
disturb his angelic calmness by any display of their own grief? No:
they restrained it; and even tried to smile again as they replied to
his touching remarks, and spoke of the happy day when they should all
meet again in heaven, and dwell for ever in the presence of that
gracious Savior, who was new taking him, as they believed, to join his
dear brother Henrich.
As twilight came on, his father bore him back to the house, and laid
him again on his little couch; and ere the glorious sun arose to
lighten the earth once more, his spirit had passed away into that realm
of perfect light where they 'have no need of the sun, neither of the
moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God does lighten it, and the
Lamb is the light thereof.' And many tears were shed for him, when the
sight of the grief of those he loved so dearly could no longer disturb
his peace, or check the willing spirit in its heavenward flight.
The sorrows of the Maitlands--thus renewed and aggravated--excited the
warmest sympathy throughout the colony; for they were universally
respected and beloved, and their calm and pious resignation drew forth
the admiration of the whole community of Puritans, who deemed any
strong expressions of grief to be altogether unsuitable to Christians.
But Rodolph and Helen did not the less feel their chastisement, because
they forbore to express their feelings to any other than to God, and to
their revered friend and minister, Brewster. On Edith, this second
blow fell even more heavily than the first; for, since Henrich's loss,
she had devoted herself to her younger brother, and felt for him almost
a mother's love: and now her pupil, her playfellow--the sunshine of her
life--was taken away from her! Truly, the Lord was preparing her in the
furnace of affliction for the future lot to which He had appointed her;
and sorrow did net visit her in vain. Her character was strengthened
and matured, and her mind was taught to find resources in itself that
proved hereafter of inestimable value to her, and to those most nearly
connected with her.
The thoughts and attention of her parents--and indeed of the whole
colony--were at this time diverted greatly from their own private cares
and interests, by an event of much importance to the settlement. This
was the arrival of a vessel, called the Fortune, from the mother-
country, bringing out to the colony a new and more comprehensive
charter, obtained for them by the Society of Plymouth, and also twenty-
five fresh settlers, who were chiefly friends and relatives of those
already established in New England. How welcome these familiar
countenances, that recalled days of happiness long passed but not
forgotten, were to the hearts and memories of their brethren, none but
exiles can tell! The new comers were indeed joyfully received, and
hospitably entertained by the Pilgrim Fathers; who invited them to take
up their quarters in their rude but comfortable dwellings, and to share
their scanty stores. Unfortunately, the new settlers were unable to
contribute any thing to these stores; for all their own provisions were
already consumed on the voyage. This accession to their numbers,
therefore, added greatly to the inconvenience of the colony, and
occasioned such a scarcity of food, that the Governor was obliged to
put the whole community upon a daily allowance; an arrangement to which
they all submitted without a murmur. And not only did the original
settlers thus consent to endure privation for the sake of their newly-
arrived friends and relatives, but they also contributed more liberally
than their narrow means could well afford, to provision the Fortune for
her voyage home. This was the occasion of the first mercantile
adventure of the Pilgrims, who took the opportunity of the return of
the ship to England, to send to the Society with which they were
connected a quantity of furs and timber to the value of five hundred
pounds. But success did not attend their speculation; for the vessel
fell into the hands of the French, and all their hopes of profit were,
for the present, blasted.
It is needless to dwell on all the continued and various hardships that
these brave men, and their families, had to endure for several ensuing
winters. A few circumstances that more especially exemplify their
manners and mode of life, will be sufficient for the purposes of our
narrative, the course of which must necessarily be somewhat interrupted
by these details. Some knowledge of the habits of the adventurers, and
of the events that befell them at this early period of their history,
is however needful for the illustration of the story; and they shall be
briefly given, before we take up the thread of the narrative a few
years subsequent to the period of which we are now speaking.
For some time the friendly relations with the Wampanoges, which had
been established by Carver and further cemented by Bradford, remained
undisturbed, and no signs of hostility were shown by any other of the
neighboring Indian tribes. This was probably owing, in a great degree,
to the wholesome example of decided measures that had been given to the
natives on the occasion of the capture of Hobomak and Squanto, and also
to the efficient means of defense that were now adopted by the
settlers. On their first arrival in New England, they had planted their
guns on the hill which commanded the rising city of New Plymouth, and
which afterwards received the name of 'the Burying Hill.' There, as we
have seen, the remains of the venerable Carver were deposited; and
there the infant form of Ludovico Maitland was laid in its last narrow
resting-place, and shaded by shrubs and plants that Edith, and the
faithful servant Janet, delighted to place there, and to tend and water
with untiring care and watchfulness.
This hill was converted, during the first year of the Pilgrim's
residence in New England, into a kind of irregular fortification. The
storehouse--which was also the chapel and the council hall--stood on
the summit, and this was surrounded by a strong wall of timber, well
furnished with batteries, on which a watch was kept night and day, to
look out for the approach of any hostile parties of Indians. At a
considerable distance from this building ran a strong wooden palisade,
that enclosed the height entirely, and was divided into four portions,
the entrance to which was securely fastened every night; and the able-
bodied men of the colony, under the command of Miles Standish, were
arranged in four squadrons, to the care of each of which one quarter
was entrusted. The occupation which this charge entailed on the
limited number of men who were capable of undertaking it, in addition
to their necessary labors and employments in building their dwellings,
cultivating their fields, and procuring provisions by hunting and
fishing was both heavy and incessant; but disease had nearly left the
colony, and want, though occasionally felt to a painful degree, was not
always their portion; and the Pilgrim Fathers were cheerfully contented
with their lot.
Still, it was a lot that involved much of hardship and personal
privation, as a drawback to the liberty, both religious and political,
that had been obtained by emigration. The harvests were scanty, and not
nearly sufficient to provide bread for the increasing community, and
also seed for the following year, and the supplies that were
occasionally procured from the Wampanoges, and their allies, were very
uncertain. At one time, every species of grain became so scarce that
the settlers had recourse to pig-nuts as a substitute for bread; and
the last pint of corn that remained to the colony, after the fields
were sown, was counted out among the whole community, when _five
grains_ fell to the share of each person, and these were looked upon as
a rare treat, and eaten as a particular dainty. Cattle were, as yet,
unknown in the colony; and their chief subsistence consisted of game,
wild fowl, and fish, of which the supply was frequently both scanty and
precarious. 'Often,' we are told in the diary of the Governor Bradford,
'we do not know in the evening where we shall get a meal next morning;
but yet we bear our want with joy, and trust in Providence.' And
strong, indeed, must have been the faith and patience of these Pilgrim
Fathers, which sustained their spirits amidst such long-continued
trials, and enabled them to meet and overcome such complicated
difficulties without hesitation and without a murmur!
At one period their only food was fish, and occasionally merely
shellfish; but never was this miserable fare partaken of by the
emigrants, who assembled to receive their respective portions, without a
blessing being asked, and thanks being offered by the pious Brewster,
who, with a spirit of gratitude too often unknown to those who revel in
abundance, praised God for having permitted them 'to suck out of the
fullness of the sea, and for the treasures sunk in the sand.' While such
an example of holy trust, and patient submission to the will of God, was
set by the leading men of this suffering colony--men who were both loved
and respected--not a complaining word was uttered by the rest. All felt
that they were bound to emulate the faith and piety of their high-souled
Governor, and their venerated elder.
And, truly, they had need of every motive, and of every aid--both human
and divine--that could keep their souls in peace, when actual famine at
length stared them in the face. The second winter had been endured;
and, in spite of cold and privation, the health of the colony had
improved; and spring again brought brighter hopes, and better prospects
of the summer's harvest. But before the grain was well grown up, a
drought came on, that threatened the utter destruction of the crops.
For six long weeks not one drop of rain fell on the thirsty land. 'The
sky was as brass' to the fainting emigrants, and 'the earth was as
iron' to them. Yet these men of God did not despair. They were
accustomed to regard every dispensation of Providence, whether
prosperous or afflictive, either as a special blessing from the hand of
God, to support and encourage His believing people, or as a Fatherly
chastisement, to punish their iniquities, and excite them to greater
piety and watchfulness. 'It pleased God,' said Edward Winslow, in
speaking of this inflict ion, 'to send a great dearth for our further
punishment.' Under this conviction, the congregation were called on by
the Governor and the elders to set apart a day for special humiliation
and prayer, in order to entreat the Lord to remove from them his
chastening hand, and to 'send a gracious rain upon His inheritance.'
The call was universally obeyed; and men, women, and children assembled
themselves together, fasting, on 'the Burying Hill,' to listen to the
solemn address delivered by Brewster, and to unite in fervent prayers
and humble confessions to their God and Father. The sky that morning
was clear and bright as ever; and the sun walked in unclouded
brilliance and majesty through the deep blue vault of heaven. For
eight hours, the devotions of the assembly continued almost without
interruption; and it seemed as if 'none regarded, neither was there any
that answered.' But as the sun was sinking towards the western horizon,
a cloud, 'as it were a man’s hand,' was seen to rise as if to meet the
glowing orb; and, ere he sank, his rays were obscured by a heavy bank
of clouds. Joy and gratitude now filled the breasts of the suppliants,
and the dim and anxious eye of many a mother, who had watched the
declining forms of her little ones in silent anguish, was lighted up
with hope, and glistened with a tear of thankfulness. Such, indeed,
had been the sufferings of the younger children, although the greatest
sacrifices had been made by their parents in order to provide them with
the food so necessary to their existence, that Helen had frequently
poured forth her heartfelt thanksgivings to her Heavenly Father, that
He had seen fit to remove her gentle and idolized Ludovico from a scene
of so much distress; and had called him away to a land where want, as
well as sorrow, is unknown, in a manner, and at a time, which allowed
her to ensure his ease and comfort to the last. To have seen her
darling pine for food, which she could not procure for him--to have
watched that fondly-cherished child sinking into his grave from the
actual want of proper nourishment, and to know that in the land they
had abandoned all that was needed to prolong his precious life was
teeming in profusion--would, she weakly thought, have been more than
her faith could have endured. But Helen erred in that doubting thought.
She was a _Christian:_ and had her Lord and Savior seen fit thus to try
her, He would also have given her grace to meet the trial as a
_Christian;_ for His promise to each one of His people is sure: 'As thy
day is, so shall thy strength be.'
Edith, her only remaining child, was strong and energetic in mind and
body; and she was no burden to her mother. Cheerfully she had borne her
share of privation; and, uncomplainingly, she had assisted Helen and
Janet in seeking for roots and berries hour after hour in the forest,
when no other food was to be obtained. Now, on this day of fasting and
prayer, she stood beside her mother and Rodolph, and lifted up her
young voice in prayer for heavenly succor, and in praise, when the
first signal of coming aid was seen in the crimson west.
The whole congregation had risen from their posture of supplication,
and were gazing with deep interest and emotion at the gathering clouds,
when they were startled at observing a large party of Indians emerging
from the thicket below, and advancing towards the palisade that formed
their outer fortification. At first they imagined them to be a hostile
body of Narragansetts, or Pequodees, who had discovered the manner in
which that day was being spent among the pale-faces, and had resolved
upon breaking the recently-formed treaty, and attempting their
destruction while they were thus assembled together and unarmed. But
these apprehensions were soon removed by the appearance of their friend
Mooanam, who advanced from the rest of his party, and hurried forward,
holding in his hands a fine fish, and calling on his allies to open
their gates and admit him and his followers into the fortress, for that
he had brought them food.
Joyfully his summons was answered, and the generous red men entered the
enclosure, and laid before the Governor a quantity of, fish, sufficient
to supply the whole community with several wholesome and acceptable
meals. The kindness of this offering was highly estimated by the
settlers; for they well knew that their Indian friends had long been
suffering privations little less than what they had themselves endured,
and that their prospects for the future were hardly more cheering than
their own. The native and untaught courtesy, also, with which the
seasonable gift was offered, added not a little to its value.
'Behold!' said Mooanam to the President, when he and his attendants had
placed the fresh spoils of their lake in order before him--'Behold what
the good Mahneto has given to his children in their day of distress!
And the red men could not eat and be in plenty, while they knew that
the faces of their white brethren were pale with want, and their little
children were crying for food. Take this, my brother, and let the
hearts of your people be glad, and bless Mahneto while they eat. I and
my young men will return to the supper that our squaws are preparing.'
'We do bless Mahneto, who is the God and father both of the red and
white men!' replied Bradford with solemnity; for he was deeply
impressed by the pious feelings of the Sachem, and touched by his
considerate kindness. 'We do bless Mahneto; and we bless you also, our
faithful and generous friends, who have thus so promptly shared with us
the produce of your labors, instead of reserving it for your own future
wants. But here is enough for you and us; and you and your young men
must abide tonight in our village, and partake with us of the abundance
that you have provided. We leave the future in the bountiful hands of
Him who has thus made you His instruments to provide for us a table in
the wilderness.'
'We will remain,' said Mooanam, 'and to-morrow some of your people
shall go with us to our lakes, and fish in our canoes. The clouds are
rising, and we shall, perhaps, have even better success than we have
met with today. But tell me, my white brother,' he continued--while he
looked inquiringly at Bradford--'tell me why your village is deserted
this evening, and why no sounds of labor met our ears as we passed
through the silent street? This is not the white men's day of rest; and
the white men do not leave their work to sleep or dance, as the red men
too often do. Why, then, are you and your people--even your squaws and
your little ones--assembled here today, and what caused that joyful
song that died away as we came to the foot hill?'
‘We have spent the day in fasting and prayer,' replied the President.
'We know that our Great Father has sent this long drought upon us, to
chasten us for our sins: and we have met to humble ourselves before
Him, and implore Him to send us the fruitful showers from heaven,
before our crops are altogether withered in the ground. He alone can
command the clouds to drop fatness; and when He sees that His
punishment has done its appointed work, He surely will take it away.
Even now, while we were making our prayers and supplications unto Him,
and confessing our sins, He has sent a token that He has heard our cry,
and will grant our request. Look at those clouds that are rising over
the western hills, and gradually spreading like a curtain across the
sky. For six weary weeks those clouds have been withheld, and we have
been humbled; and, at times, our faith has well nigh failed. But the
faithfulness of our God never fails; and now we are confident that, ere
long, His blessing will descend upon us.'
Mooanam made no reply; but he gazed intently on the gathering clouds,
and then looked searchingly into Bradford's fine expressive
countenance, as if to be assured that he had heard and understood
aright. Squanto stood beside him; and his aid had been several times
required by both parties, in order to the carrying out the above
discourse: and now the Sachem drew him aside, and conversed earnestly
with him in a low voice. He was making him repeat, in his own tongue,
the words of the white man; and Bradford heard him say to the
interpreter, as he turned away to rejoin him, 'Now we shall see whether
the Great Spirit really hears the prayers of the white men.'
The President understood this remark, and fervently he lifted up his
own heart to the Lord, and prayed that the hopes of His suffering and
trusting people might now be fulfilled; not only for their own relief,
but also that the minds of the dark heathen might be impressed, and
that they might see and feel the power and the goodness of the
Christians' covenant God.
While Mooanam and the Governor were engaged in conversation, the
assembly had dispersed to their own homes; each family carrying with
them their respective portion of the food so liberally offered by their
Indian friends, and eager to partake of the first plentiful meal that
they had enjoyed for several weeks; The hope of coming rain also
cheered the hearts of the Pilgrims; and there was joy and gratitude
throughout the village that evening.
The Sachem and his people were gladly received and entertained in the
dwellings of the Governor and principal inhabitants; and when Mooanam
lay down to rest, he long gazed through the opening in the wooden wall
of the chamber that formed its only window, and watched the heavy
clouds as they sped across the sky, and observed the face of the
glimmering moon, that looked out so calmly and brightly between their
dark moving masses. The soul of the Sachem was deeply impressed; and he
thought of all that Bradford had said to him, and wondered whether the
God of the white men was indeed the God of the Indians also.