some of their own people would come in the next ships sent out by
the Merchants. This cheer was sorely needed, but as they were just
managing to keep from starvation by the fish as almost their only food,
they wondered how they could supply the newcomers with a living. The
prospect was indeed dreary, as a protracted drought had wilted their
cherished crops hopelessly. Another ship, bringing a rather important
naval official in charge of fishing activities on the coast, came in.
This officer, Captain Francis West, called Admiral of New England, made
but a short stay, but long enough to fill them with anxiety as he told
them he had spoken a ship at sea, had boarded her, found her bound for
this port, and sailed in company with her until in a violent storm they
lost sight of her. He supposed she had already come in, and, finding
she had not, feared some mischance.
These summer days were dark for them, starving, with hopes of a harvest
blighted by drought, and now distress for the possible loss of the ship
bringing their loved ones. In this deepest gloom, which proved the
fore-runner of dawn, they set apart a day of prayer, in humility and
distress, by their faith’s steady flame. Under the glaring sun, the
day began--but at evening the sun set in clouds and the rain came for
which they prayed. The corn, the fruit was saved.
* * * * *
Sweet and soft was the air of the summer morning some few weeks after
this; birds sang joyously and a silver mist hung over the sea as
Plymouth awoke to the new day. The women seemed more lighthearted than
of late, shown by snatches of song now and then as they pursued the
common tasks of the household. An indefinable feeling which had come
to them that since the answer to their prayer for rain had been given
by many refreshing showers, the one in supplication for the safety of
the ship and their expected dear ones could not be in vain and all
would yet be well, gave them more enjoyment of life notwithstanding
a breakfast of boiled clams was all they could prepare for their
families. The smoke from the chimneys rose over the thatched roofs,
pointing seaward. Some of the men came forth from their homes, on their
way to the day’s labors, and cheerily greeted one another, stopping to
speak of the weather and prospects of plenty.
Mary Brewster stands in her door-way, arranging the sprays of the
wild rose trained beside it--the showers had revived it and it looked
its best. She had planted and tended it, hoping for the day when her
daughters might smile at her beside its blossoms. Priscilla joins her
in admiring it, both thinking of Fear and Patience on the longed for
ship. They speak of this being the first ship to come having a woman’s
name, and that she was bringing so many women.
John Alden stops on his way past with a morning greeting. What man more
anxious than he for the arrival of the _Anne_, though his bride-to-be
is not on the ship. Through many months Priscilla has heard love’s
voice, sweet and low, tender and strong, and though for one reason and
another it seemed best to wait, she has now promised to marry him when
the uncertainty about the ship is over, for she could not leave dear
Mistress Brewster, who had so mothered her, in the suspense concerning
her own daughters, nor be selfish in thinking of her own affairs when
the universal anxiety was so great.
They too, talk of the weather, of the breeze from the southwest, and
glance at the chimney’s long finger of smoke pointing, pointing to
the sea. Half unconsciously they look in that direction and watch the
thinning fog as it seems to form in patterns like Flemish lace, as
Priscilla says. Now it has parted and the sun’s brilliancy streams
through making a jewelled pathway on the water. Quickly Priscilla
grasps Mary Brewster’s hand and flings out her arm in the direction the
smoke has been pointing. Against the pink and golden morning sky there
is a ship, coming slowly, slowly, into the harbor, flinging before her
wreaths of pearly foam. The _Anne_!
“Then from their houses in haste came forth the Pilgrims of Plymouth,
Men and women and children all hurrying down to the sea shore.”
Never again did the Pilgrims of Plymouth experience the thrill of
that moment at the arrival of any ship, and only once before had
the feeling approached it--at the arrival of the _Fortune_. Though
some emotions were similar in each case, such as relief and joy, the
circumstances were dissimilar. The relief was for themselves, for their
own welfare, in the first case, in the second their relief was doubled,
as the welfare of those on the ship was the chief thought. The first
joy was coupled with surprise at its unexpectedness, the second with
thanksgiving at the fulfillment of a great hope and anticipation.
Fathers and husbands, brothers and friends jumped into boats to put
off to the _Anne_ to see and greet at the earliest possible moment
those of whom they had been thinking and dreaming for so long. Here is
Richard Warren, Doctor Fuller and Francis Cooke, of the first division,
Jonathan Brewster and Thomas Prence, of the second, off in the first
dash. The governor’s boat takes also his assistant, Isaac Allerton, and
Captain Myles Standish. Those on the ship, crowding along the rail, see
the boats coming to them over the laughing wavelets, and recognizing
one after another of the men as they come alongside, laugh in reply as
they wave.
There has been written some charming verses descriptive of the arrival
in this country of the foreign girls who married members of the A.
E. F. of the recent war. The conclusion fits well with that scene of
nearly three hundred years ago:
“They loved our heroes well enough
To leave all else besides
And make America their own,
So welcome home the brides.”
Yes, and wives, too. The ship’s band, if there had been one, might well
have played the tune of “Sweethearts and Wives,” while Plymouth’s drum
and fife could have replied with “Haste to the Wedding,” or “Here Comes
the Bride.”
When the excitement had subsided a little, in a few days time, the
Brewster girls had the interesting event of a wedding in their home,
for their old friend, Priscilla married the young man of her choice,
whom they had never seen, until they came to Plymouth. There was
little wherewith to make a wedding feast, but, at least a health could
be given the bride and bridegroom in the elderblow wine, made a year
before.
Indeed the great shock to the newcomers was the condition of affairs
in the colony--the thinness, paleness and weakness of all, from
want of sufficient food. The governor recalls for many a day the
embarrassment felt by the Pilgrims that so little could be offered to
the new arrivals, only fish and cold water. But the _Anne_, unlike the
_Fortune_, brought some supplies and necessaries, so the passengers
were not a drain upon the colony as in the case of the _Fortune_, but,
rather a great help.
Following the example of John Alden, Francis Eaton took to himself
a wife, thereby adding another to the number of married women among
the original company. He wedded the only woman who has been without
a name in the history of the _Mayflower_ and of the colony, perhaps
the only woman in history who, being mentioned several times, has
always been nameless. Of course she had a name and was called by it
by her contemporaries, but seek as we may, she is designated only for
us as “Mrs. Carver’s maid.” For Francis Eaton she stayed, when she
might have returned with Desire Minter; for him and his baby boy, left
motherless, in the first winter, who had been looked after by plain but
kind-hearted Eleanor Billington.
A passenger by the _Anne_ whom we know, the wealthy widow, Mrs. Alice
Southworth, brought her maid--but she was Christian Penn, and she
married Francis Eaton for his third wife in after years, as the second
Mrs. Eaton (we are glad to give her a name for once), did not live long.
The _Anne_ stayed at Plymouth over a month--a witness of the several
marriages which she had brought about, directly and indirectly.
Alice Carpenter--the lovely English girl, going with her family
into voluntary exile in Leyden, marrying there and afterwards
living, a prosperous matron of London, as Alice Southworth, then
crossing the sea, a widow, to become a bride again, this time of a
Colonial governor, living thereafter as Alice Bradford, an adornment
of the community about her and a great factor in its peace and
progress--weaves one of the bright threads of romance through the story
of the women of Plymouth. The governor’s marriage to the charming widow
was indeed an important event in the life of the village.
Somewhat of a surprise to all but a few, was the announcement of the
coming marriage of the Captain to an old friend, who had come out in
company with Mrs. Southworth, for the same reason, in answer to a
proposal of marriage, by letter. Then followed another wedding, of
special interest to all the first comers by the _Mayflower_ and to
many of the recent arrivals, that of big John Howland with little
Elizabeth Tilly, as she always seemed to her old friends, though
quite grown up now and nearing seventeen. John Howland had patiently
waited, as other men. Thus, by the coming of the _Anne_, bringing her
own dear daughters, after three years of separation, Mary Brewster
was able to smile at the departure of two of her loving daughters of
adversity, to homes of their own. In this practical and primitive life,
no honeymoons could be thought of. Plymouth, itself, then lay within
the radius of a quarter of a mile and there was not another civilized
habitation in hundreds of leagues, so the only wedding journey of these
_Mayflower_ girls, Priscilla and Elizabeth, was from Elder Brewster’s
doorway to their own new homes; one down, one up the street. We know
that these girls had in addition to the loving interest of Mary
Brewster, the affectionate encouragement of Susanna Winslow and the
warm friendship of their girl companions of Leyden and of Plymouth,
Fear and Patience Brewster, Mary Chilton and Humility Cooper--priceless
wedding gifts--nor lacking was the regard of the governor’s wife, a
contemporary bride and old friend of Leyden days.
Of these marriages we have not a sketch in the written history of those
days, except in the new book brought by the _Anne_ for the colony’s
records, and the first entries, most appropriately, are these. And that
the _Fortune_ might be represented in the weddings of this season, as
well as the _Mayflower_ an _Anne_, the widow, Mrs. Ford, proceeded to
take a second husband, in the person of Peter Brown, one of the sturdy
and loyal men of the colony, who had come in the _Mayflower_.
The doctor’s young wife, Bridget; Richard Warren’s daughters, as well
as their mother, and Hester Cooke and Juliana Morton, all arrivals
by the _Anne_, hardly realized at first the sombre background of
the life against which these marriages shone out for the first
comers. To them it seemed they had arrived in a land of weddings and
happiness--though lack of feasting and trousseaux was somewhat evident.
Another interested on-looker, is the aunt of Remember and Mary, Isaac
Allerton’s sister, whom we knew in Leyden as Sarah Priest, but,
widowed the first winter after her husband arrived at the new home he
was to prepare for her, she nevertheless came to Plymouth with a new
husband, whom she had recently married in Leyden, and now she is Sarah
Cuthbertson. She brought the little sister of the Allerton children,
Sarah, who had been left in her care, but did not give up charge of her.
The augmented motion and sounds on Plymouth’s street, under the
September sky was apparent. Many women had come; numerous children
were there; the men’s families were forming new households; strangers
getting accustomed to one another and surroundings; friends renewing
old ties--the newcomers feeling a bit lost, nevertheless.
The life, such as it had been, for the _Mayflower_ passengers was
over. That time, within the three years from their departure on the
_Speedwell_ from Delfshaven, to their welcome of the _Anne_, at
Plymouth, was a thing apart.
BENEATH THE PINES OF PLYMOUTH.
[Illustration]
BENEATH THE PINES OF PLYMOUTH.
The _Anne_, laden with lumber, furs and mail, sailed in September,
carrying also an important passenger; Susanna Winslow had to spare her
husband for a time, while he went to England on the colony’s business
and his own affairs. However, her cares now were somewhat lessened by
the coming in the _Anne_ of a young women, named Mary Becket, to assist
in her household labors. Since his other aunt had come, by the _Anne_,
to live in Plymouth, little Samuel Fuller went back to the doctor’s
house to grow up. Bridget Fuller came with the baby, who was too
delicate to make the voyage in the _Mayflower_, now three years old,
and the doctor’s sunny gentle spirit rejoiced.
Following the _Anne_ came a small ship called _Little James_, which
was to remain for the colony’s use. It proved of little use and great
expense, after all, but it brought other Leyden friends, as well as
strangers from England. Thus Plymouth grew, and this autumn saw about a
hundred and eighty persons instead of the handful who had struggled for
life and a home in the wilderness for the past three years.
The new plan of individual division of the land with its planting
and care proved its wisdom; the crops ripening rapidly, foretold an
abundant harvest; the lightening of hearts and the promising outlook
caused the governor to proclaim a day of public thanksgiving. It was
not after the manner of that of two years previously, as conditions
were different, but more in remembrance of the day of supplication
held in July. The dreaded visitor famine, was gone, never to return
to the firesides of Plymouth--although for some awful hours it seemed
possible. On a wintry night, too great a fire on the hearth of one of
the new houses, caused that house, and those nearest, to be consumed
by flames and to threaten the Common House where their trading
supplies and harvest were stored. Well that the Captain had prepared
his original company to fight possible fire as well as possible
hostile attack, for by those men was that tragedy averted, as, in the
excitement and confusion, the majority of the new-comers were more of a
hindrance than help. The women must have felt that if cares and labors
were somewhat decreased, responsibility and uncertainty were increased
through the added numbers to the town.
That winter was the gayest Plymouth had ever known. Families had been
so lately reunited that the satisfaction and joy of the occasion still
caused effervescence of spirits, and, too, there were many more young
people who never had to live through the hard and perilous times which
the first group experienced. These all had either homes to go to or
loving friends to shelter them until homes were built; no sickness to
contend with and plenty to eat. Where the comforts of all the men had
depended more or less on a few women, now the hands of many women made
all tasks lighter, and there was time for more social intercourse,
which though in simplest form was sufficient then for relaxation and
pleasure. No wonder happy voices were carried on the winter winds
and light footsteps echoed on the street. Neighborliness being ever
a characteristic of the Pilgrims, there was a constant exchange of
goodwill and kindly attentions between the households. They had not
needed Robert Cushman’s admonition in his discourse to them, before
returning in the _Fortune_, “There is no grief so tedious as a churlish
companion and nothing makes sorrows easy more than cheerful associates.
Bear ye therefore one another’s burdens and be not a burden one to
another,” but they did not ignore it.
We may glance in the houses, on a frosty evening, and see who are
sheltered within their cosy brightness and warmth. The governor’s
house has a large and merry party to hold, for he and his wife are
entertaining for the winter, her sister, Juliana, with husband, George
Morton and all the little Mortons: Patience, Nathaniel, John, Sarah,
Ephraim and baby George; also a regular member of the family, Thomas
Cushman. No wonder Christian Penn was in demand.
In the Brewster home, across the way, the Elder and his wife have also
lively company, with three sons, the dear daughters, and Mary Chilton
and Humility Cooper and Richard More. Thomas Prence, John Winslow,
Philip de la Noye and half a dozen more of the young men drop in of an
evening, with four attractive girls and charming hostess to welcome
them, and even an older man occasionally, as when Isaac Allerton brings
his daughter over to join in the fun; though he appears only to talk to
the Elder he glances at one of the girls, sometimes. Patience has her
little flax wheel at one side of the room under a candle bracket and
the whir of the wheel makes a background for the voices. Thomas Prence
is beside her mightily interested in the spinning, as the product is
for his sweetheart’s hope chest. The Brewster girls have brought a
supply of new linens to their mother, from Holland, and indeed all the
housekeepers are well supplied with this necessity, but constant usage
wears out the best made and so more must be in readiness, therefore
spinning is a regular occupation, especially for those with a wedding
in mind.
Susanna Winslow has company, also, this evening, for her brother, the
cheerful doctor, and his young wife have been having supper with her
and her young brothers-in-law. John has gone over to the Brewster’s,
but Gilbert, his handsome, rather discontented face lit by the fire,
sits near the hearth, smoking, with the doctor and another man, for
Sarah Cuthbertson has come in for an evening’s gossip with her old
friend, Anna, bringing her new husband. The three women have much to
talk of--matters both grave and gay--and the new-comers from Leyden are
doing most of the chatter, Susanna well pleased to listen, commenting
occasionally on the narration of who had married or moved away and such
items of interest as would accumulate in three years, with infrequent
opportunities of communication.
John Howland and his Elizabeth go in the doorway of the Alden’s house
for a social call--and find Francis Cooke and his wife, Hester, there,
also, and soon after, the Captain and his wife, Barbara, enter, and
there is laughter and chat, while the women’s fingers ply the knitting
needles, for even in recreation moments the women can seldom afford
to be wholly idle. Hester is an old Leyden friend to Priscilla and
Elizabeth, though not of English birth, while Barbara is a new friend
to them all, Hester having made her acquaintance on the sea voyage
which brought them both to Plymouth. Francis Cooke had a comfortable
house awaiting his wife and children, and Hester, naturally, quite
fitted in with the first comers.
In the large house of the Hopkins, we see a number of the youngest
inhabitants of Plymouth having a very jolly time--Giles and Constance
being responsible. Here are Mary and Bartholomew Allerton, John and
Jane Cooke, Patience Morton and Thomas Cushman, Ann and Sarah Warren,
William Palmer and Samuel Jenny, even Jacob Cooke and Damaris Hopkins
are admitted, also Mercy Sprague, Samuel Fuller, Resolved White and
Sarah Annable, for at these children’s parties the early hours kept
could not rob even the youngest of much sleep. We know how many of
the future marriages in Plymouth came from this gay group. Stephen
Hopkins and his wife have gone out themselves and we see them in the
home of Richard Warren, whose wife and daughter Mary, having gotten
the youngest girls, Elizabeth and Abigail, in bed are glad to welcome
company. Two of their fellow passengers in the _Anne_ are also present,
one being Robert Bartlett, whose interest in Mary began on their ocean
voyage, which has a very modern sound. The other visitor is Ellen
Newton, who came out with these friends, and is soon to marry John
Adams, who preceded her in the _Fortune_.
Here is another gathering at the home of John and Sarah Jenny, who,
with their three children, arrived on the _Little James_, they are of
the old Leyden company; also we see here Stephen Tracy and Triphosa,
his French wife and their little girl, Sarah, who has come to have a
frolic with her playmates, Abigail and Sarah, while the parents are
absorbed in their own affairs; they are soon joined by William Palmer
(who came with his son in the _Fortune_) and his wife, Frances, a
passenger in the _Anne_. The happy-go-lucky, or unlucky, household of
the Billingtons is evidently satisfied with its own family this evening.
And to look further we see other homes whose inmates are strangers to
us, though not to all of our earliest acquaintances, such as Francis
and Anna Sprague, whose little girl, Mercy, is at the Hopkins, this
evening; Anthony and Jane Annable, their oldest child we have also
seen at the party but Sarah and Hannah are at home; Ralph Wallen and
Joyce, his wife, Edward and Rebecca Bangs, with two children romping at
home; Robert Hicks with Margaret and three children; also Mr. and Mrs.
Edward Burcher, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Flavell and Mr. and Mrs. William
Hilton and little boys (all of the latter arrived by the _Anne_)
besides numerous single men of the _Fortune_, _Anne_ and _Little
James_, who are quite welcome at the different houses. With so many
young men, the girls had numbers to choose from, as each would have
been glad for a wife and home of his own. Light refreshments add to
the social hour we see, possets and manchets with home-brewed ale, and
nuts, or the beverage made of roots, flavored with sassafras, similar
to modern root beer, and popcorn--both the latter Indian additions to
their knowledge. The possets and manchets are little cakes, the former
sometimes called “sweet shrub” made of flour, sugar and spice, while
manchets are flour, made without the spice and baked brown like our
cookies.
Having thus seen who is who in Plymouth by the lights of the houses,
“shining like stars in the dark and mist of the evening,” we will
observe some passing events, from this time, which were of interest
to the women, either for themselves or members of their families or
friends.
This happy winter passed into their history, and spring coming found
the Plymouth people with hearts more in tune to the joy and hope of
its opening buds and bird songs than ever before.
On a March day, the first ship of the season from England came into
view. If one has ever lived, in modern times, far from native land and
many dear friends, as on island possessions, for instance, in civil or
military life, with ships coming safely to harbor, the only chance of
communication with the outside world, bringing letters, packages of
gifts or a friend or two, perchance, with weeks or months of interval
between sight of a ship from over-seas, one may easily comprehend just
how the women of Plymouth felt when a ship was coming in. And though
the women did not write or receive letters very often, in those days,
yet they heard the contents of those which frequently came to their
husbands and could think and talk of the tidings for many a day.
The _Charity_ brought Susanna Winslow’s husband home to her and to
his welcoming friends. His mission had been eminently successful and
proved the adage of “If you want a thing done well, do it yourself,”
for Winslow knowing each need of the colony, brought back the proper
supplies for trade with the Indians or the fishing ships, and adequate
selection of clothing for all. Having a wife, he knew what to buy for
the women, and what the children needed, besides special commissions
in way of books or household comforts as they existed, at that time,
elsewhere. The colony was not rich--either as a whole or by individual
wealth--but though bearing a heavy debt to the Merchants, they had to
live while every effort was being made to reduce the original, and the
Merchants were usually willing to add to their obligation, especially
since their exports were so marketable. Also some of the families had
personal credit in England, even though for several years the results
of their trade went to reduce the common debt, and the only personal
gain allowed in Plymouth was from selling the products of their own
lands to one another. Corn was legal tender, nothing else was needed or
of greater value to them or the natives, until a later date. Therefore
the Elder, the Governor, the Captain, could rejoice in more books, the
women in the last word of costume detail from London or Leyden suitable
to their present situation. We are quite sure that Mary Chilton,
Patience Brewster and the other girls, as well as the young brides,
were just as particular about the set of a broad brimmed hat, or the
ribbons on a velvet hood, as interested in whether white neckwear had
bows or tassels to fasten it, and if silver shoe buckles were engraved
or plain, as any woman of today in her up-to-date appearance.