Winslow’s return, he had purchased several head of cattle, and the
children watched with greatest curiosity--and some alarm to those who
had never seen such creatures--the approach of the small boats from the
ship with ropes trailing behind attached to the horns and necks of the
cows, swimming valiantly to their new home. Their familiar appearance
brought an increased home feeling to the women. From that day milk
was never lacking for beverage, butter, and cheese; goat’s milk was no
longer their only supply.
And of great interest to many was a certain book which Winslow had
written and had printed that winter, in London, called “Good News From
New England.” This publication which threw the picture of themselves
and their surroundings sharply before the eyes of many on the screen
of public intelligence, in England, was a factor in their life
thereafter by its results. Business for the colony was not concluded
at the time Winslow wished to return to Plymouth, and, as he brought
letters requesting his further presence, to continue these matters, the
governor agreed to his leaving them again, and Susanna could do nothing
but consent also.
The _Charity_ remained for fishing, throughout the summer, which
was crowded with events of moment. In response to appeals from the
Pilgrims in Plymouth to the Merchants in London that their pastor, John
Robinson, be sent to them with others of their number from Leyden,
the Merchants had made excuses. The _Anne_ brought affectionate
letters from Robinson but not his longed-for presence. To their great
surprise, therefore, in company with Winslow, on the _Charity_, there
came a stranger whom the Merchants had decided should be the colony’s
religious head. In vain had Winslow argued and pleaded for Robinson,
knowing what a disappointment this would be. This minister brought
his wife and children and at first seemed well disposed toward the
Pilgrims, so they accepted what they could not help and allowed him a
seat on the Council board--for now there were several assistants to the
governor--and requested him to act as associate with their elder, but
although he declared himself a convert to the Separatist church, they
did not admit him to the position of their pastor. A more acceptable
companion on this home-coming of Winslow’s was a clever and likable
young carpenter, who did them good service.
In the early summer, Ellen Newton married John Adams, which was of
interest to those who had crossed with her in the _Anne_, and kindly
observed by others. In midsummer, two new comers brought rejoicing
and pleasure to many. In the governor’s family arrived the baby who
received the name of William, which had also been given to his father,
grand-father and great-grandfather. Into John and Priscilla Alden’s
home came Elizabeth, called the first born daughter of the Pilgrims.
As one writer has expressed it, “She was destined to outlive every
individual then in the colony and to survive the colony itself by
twenty-five years.”
In August, just about a year from the time of the arrival of the
_Anne_, another of her passengers became a bride, making the eighth
in the colony during the twelve-month. This wedding was of special
interest, not only because it was the first in a prominent family, but
because of the popularity of the bride and the groom and the affection
and esteem in which the parents were held. Plymouth rejoiced when
Patience Brewster married Thomas Prence, and her mother felt that
she then had all that heart could wish for. With tall, affectionate
sons and loving daughters, one going to a home of her own, but not
away, and, beside her, the handsome lover of her youth as her devoted
husband, sharing her feelings on this important day; a home with all
comforts then obtainable; among admiring friends as of old, Mary
Brewster sighed in happy content. Plymouth had returned to her the
pleasures of Scrooby without its later uncertainties and trials. And
Patience, a reflection of her mother’s early fairness and charm, was
as radiant a bride as New England’s sun ever lighted on a wedding day.
Her young husband was to steadily advance in the esteem of the colony
and in material position, reaching the important place of governor in
a few years. Thus destiny had woven for her life a beautiful pattern,
with childhood in Scrooby, girlhood in Leyden, womanhood in Plymouth,
with love and tender care to lighten all her days. A bright particular
star in the galaxy of women of Plymouth colony who were not of the
_Mayflower_ company, but who found their life’s fulfillment there.
* * * * *
Plymouth society had grown enough to be no longer the one and
indivisible association welded together by common experiences and
mutual interests, as it was at first. With the advent of those
unconnected with the original pioneers and their objects, who came
as friends of the Merchants or as adventurers to a new but firmly
established country, caring nothing for its interests, rather hoping
to throw over what the first comers had won by their courage and faith
(of firm government and laws, freedom of conscience and liberality for
those of differing views, and united labor for prosperity and peace)
came a change; a division was felt between the group with the anarchist
spirit and that comprising the original element. Regretting this, but
forced to acknowledge it by definite unpleasantness between them,
the first families began to live within their own circle as much as
possible. Stirring scenes took place, as autumn began, and the women
had much to discuss. The governor was forced to make the issue and in
upholding law and order to dismiss certain members of the community,
though their families were allowed to stay and were cared for until
new homes could be procured elsewhere. Chief among these disturbers
of Plymouth’s peace were a group who had come in the _Anne_, under
leadership of one, John Oldham, and the hypocritical minister, Lyford,
who was a sad disappointment to these charitably inclined people. The
recital of this experience has been given in many of the writings which
concern the men of Plymouth--the “Pilgrim Fathers,” so often mentioned.
The element of unrest being removed, other persons, not harmful but
formerly indifferent only, became loyal supporters of the commonwealth;
so calmness again settled over Plymouth when the first snow flakes
draped the rugged pines, standing as sentinels or guardians for this
little world, between the wilderness and the sea.
The winter was much like the one preceding it, with two new young
housekeepers and the prospect of other brides. Susanna Winslow was
again without her husband, and Gilbert had decided to revisit his old
home--accompanying his brother to England, never to return. Matchmakers
would gladly have mated him with one of the colony’s belles. One
wonders, even at this distant day, why this eligible young bachelor did
not marry, what woman touched his heart? Pity he had not asked Desire
to stay; perhaps it was she that was the something Plymouth lacked
for him; or did he admire Mary Chilton’s graces of mind and person,
yet leave her for his brother John’s happiness? Fancies play around a
possible answer to this passing question among the many love stories
that we know in Plymouth, which culminated for the principals, as fairy
tales, in subsequent happiness.
Grey days and golden passed over Plymouth, each one finding the women
busy with the successive round of household duties and industries,
not ended with the sunset gun as the men’s labors might be. Let us
look at a list of occupations which kept them from idleness in each
season of the year: candle-making, pickling eggs, preserve and cordial
making, distilling of herbs, ale or beer making, manufacture of soap,
laundrying, dying cloths and yarns, braiding mats of rushes, sweeping
and sanding floors, cleaning wooden and iron utensils, scouring and
polishing pewter, brass and silver articles, pounding corn, butter and
cheese making, cooking, weaving, spinning, sewing, drying wet shoes by
placing hot oats in them, or clothes--storm soaked--by blazing logs
on the hearth (for umbrellas and overshoes were then unknown) and
teaching the boys and girls. It was not until a later day that there
were schools for the children, and as it had been in England, so in
their new home, their learning was obtained from their elders. Some had
brought what books they could; nearly all brought Bibles in several
languages, Psalm-books and Catechisms, and before long, the almanacs
proved a most useful factor in home education.
Moments of recreation and rest were evidently somewhat rare, but no
less enjoyable, lighter occupations serving the purpose at home or when
visiting. Can we not see them on many a winter evening by the firelight
of blazing cedar logs and candle glow from the dips made in the autumn,
with the fine embroidery and knitting in which the women of their day
and training took such pride; or placing the stitches in the samplers
which were to take the place of pictures on the bare walls, also making
designs in colored threads upon the sets of curtains for beds or
windows; meanwhile talking together of past days in their old homes--of
the friends left there whom they were hopefully expecting to join them,
showing keepsakes and telling their personal value to amuse one another.
Doubtless their greatest peace and pleasure came from singing songs as
they had done in Pastor Robinson’s house, looking out on the beautiful
old garden in Leyden. The book from which they sang has been described
in the poem we all know:
“The well-worn psalm book of Ainsworth
Printed in Amsterdam, the words and music together,
Rough-hewn, angular notes, like stones in the wall of a church-yard
Darkened and overhung by the running vine of the verses.”
Such was the book, the delight of the Pilgrim women, for in that
country of few books, not only did its pages afford their only music,
but the annotations formed both a dictionary and encyclopedia of
useful knowledge; things temporal and things spiritual were explained,
scientific, historical and religious information was dispensed therein.
Truly a library in a single volume.
Spring again, and the day of Edward Winslow’s return found the town
in excitement and the women decidedly disturbed. John Oldham had
come suddenly amongst them, for no other purpose than to revile and
insult the authorities. They had imprisoned him and were later getting
rid of him in a chastened mood, when Winslow and the captain of the
ship, which had brought him unnoticed into the harbor, walked up the
street. John Oldham surprised them yet again, at a later day, but
then returned to make amends and apologies, and to offer services,
which the authorities were able to accept. And this man, with the
upsetting propensities, met a violent death at the hands of Indians
in Massachusetts bay--his boat was rescued and his death avenged by
Captain John Gallup, Senior, of Boston. This event has been called the
first naval engagement of American history, and in it were the seeds of
the Pequot war.
As John Oldham’s boat put out from the harbor, and the boats from the
_Jacob_ landed the colony’s supplies and Winslow’s belongings, the
unpleasantness was soon forgotten in welcoming him and the popular
captain, William Pierce, now an old friend, by his frequent visits
to Plymouth with various ships. One special parcel Edward Winslow
delivered with care to the governor’s wife. It was a gift to her of a
package of spices from her old friend, Robert Cushman, in London.
The bountiful summer was enjoyed in “peace and health and contented
minds.” We may think of the women in their gardens tending lovingly
the plants grown from seeds carefully brought from other gardens, far
away, where memories must have been tended as well as flowers. Those
who would, might join the children and dogs in walks on the sea shore
and in the woods, bringing to their homes decorations in the form of
flowers and shells. One writer has said, “The first ornaments of the
houses were probably the periwinkle shells, their memory deserves to be
cherished like the arbutus flower among the things that awaken Pilgrim
memories.”
The first quickly built dwellings were now solidified into comfortable
houses, various rooms being added from time to time, with furniture
colony-made or imported; the ground plots around them were kept
attractively, some of them being washed by the bubbling waters of Town
Brook, as it flowed past, and most of them enclosed with palings or
wooden walls, against which fruit trees and vines were trained, as in
kitchen gardens of the old country. Sometimes at day’s close, it was
possible to watch or partake in the old English game of stool-ball, a
distant cousin of croquet.
An evening in late summer beautifies the landscape with its serene
light. Through the garden behind the house, Mary Brewster walks with
her daughters. They come toward the brook and pause to enjoy their
surroundings. From the woodland across the stream the purple and
golden flowers of the season bend toward them in the lightest of airs;
the robins fly from bush to tree, preparing to rest. We seem to feel
with them the remembrance of another scene of a summer evening long
passed, when these three walked down through the grounds of Scrooby
Manor to Ryton Stream to say farewell. But Town Brook does not see the
same expression of sadness and uncertainty among them as Ryton saw;
the long shafts of illuminating light reveal countenances where only
satisfaction and tranquility dwell.
* * * * *
The kitchen at the Winslow’s presents a lively scene this autumn
morning. The Mistress and Mary Becket are in the depths of preparations
for a feast and not an ordinary one. Susanna is registering great
cheerfulness and Mary decided efficiency. Two important causes may
be found both for the feast and good spirits. First, the master of
the house returned yesterday from a somewhat hazardous but extremely
successful trading trip far up the coast. The principal men of the old
set were with him, so several other wives were also rejoicing at the
return. The great quantity of beaver would make who would, a fur coat
for the coming winter, like those the Indian women wore so comfortably.
And as for Mary--why George Soule had told her last evening that she
was the only woman for him, and indeed she would not be as long making
up her mind on that subject as Mary Chilton had been in making up hers
on a like matter. All of which shows that an elaborate cooking program
was a small matter this morning. And the feast? Why, it is to be a
supper party in compliment to Mary Chilton and John Winslow who have
recently become engaged. The date hinged on Edward Winslow’s return,
but it had been thoroughly planned when he left. George Soule had been
shooting one day and brought home a number of plump birds and a pair of
wild turkeys.
These two are not the sole occupants of the kitchen, for others come
and go. George Soule keeps up the noble fire by adding great oak sticks
to the andirons in the mammoth fire-place and adjusting the multitude
of hooks and chains and cooking utensils as they are needed. From
the crane, big iron kettles exhale delicious odors, while numerous
skillets hold different important positions, the contents of each
cooking at its appointed degree of heat, while on the high mantle
shelf above, the hour glass is watched and turned. As the great oven
door is opened, what fragrance! Simmels, buns, biscuits and pastry and
what besides! Enter an Indian with a bag of oysters specially ordered,
since none are in Plymouth waters; they are to be baked in individual
scallop shells, in the old, yet familiar way, with breadcrumbs and
butter. Mrs. Hopkins comes with the kindly object of showing just how
she manufactures on rare occasions her wonderful dish called “Hennes in
Brette.” The hens must be scalded and cut in pieces, fried lightly with
pork, spice and crumbs, basted with ale, and colored gold with saffron.
The turkeys are stuffed with beechnuts and will be roasted on the spit.
A plum pudding is bubbling in one of the kettles, and dumplings of
flour in another, to garnish the chicken dish; pumpkin pies are made
and standing aside, so too, loaves of brown and white bread. Vegetables
await their turn--samp, onions, parsnips, turnips, peas; the succotash
is mixed, composed of corn, beans and meat. A ham is boiling, likewise
clam chowder. Mary pulls a pan out of the oven--the nokake is done to a
turn!
Edward and John Winslow have thoughtfully been asked for dinner by Mrs.
Bradford--there could hardly be much chance for them at home, this
day. Afternoon comes on apace and there is much for the last part for
Susanna and the last moments for Mary and Hobomok’s wife, who will
help in the evening. The leg of mutton, rarest treat, with cucumber
sauce, or couch, for the mutton to rest on is certainly perfection; the
cucumbers, sliced and parboiled have drained, then butter fried, now,
with condiments, onion, mutton gravy and lemon juice they are simmering
gently, occasionally tossed about. A poloc, or stew of small birds,
smothered with rice, onion and herbs, adds another to the wonderful
combination of fragrance. And now come the partridges--a broth of
boiled marrow bones, strained and put in an earthen dish with wine and
spices is the delectable fluid in which they are cooked, the birds
having been stuffed with whole peppers and marrow. Salad, cranberry
tarts, grape jelly, pudding with strawberry sauce, and a marvelous
sufflet, rich, frothing and crisp, (a pound roll of butter enlarged
to half a dozen times its original size, from being turned on a long
rod resting on the fire hooks, continuously dredged with flour and
eaten as soon as possible.) Late in the day, Mrs. Warren comes in to
direct the making of her special dish, another of the rarities, called
cheese cake; boiled milk with beaten eggs has been cooling and curdling
since last evening, it is now strained and to it added butter, mace,
rose-water and wine, currants and syrup. Pastry forms are waiting to
hold this combination for a few seconds in the oven. Elderblow wine
(made by the old French receipt the women had learned on the Continent,
of sugar, fruit, blossoms and yeast), cider, spiced ale and some of
the excellent wine which Edward Winslow brought on his return from
England, are to help digest this marvelous menu--and of great interest
are the first apples from the Winslow’s new orchard, likewise honey
from Plymouth bees, a recent industry.
Truly a feast--yet when it was ready, Susanna met her guests with
smiles, and renewed the admiration in the heart of her prospective
young sister-in-law. Those who partook of this supper and lived to tell
the tale were the old friends, of course, for Mary Chilton was ever a
favorite and one of the _Mayflower_ girls, so none of that list could
be omitted, (Captain Standish on a mission in England, was missed),
and now that there was so large a younger set coming on to take the
place of those who had married, many of them must be invited, besides
the recent brides and bridegrooms, themselves, and one or two of John
Winslow’s joyous and special friends of the _Fortune_ who might still
be fancy free, but could not be omitted on that account. That this
invigorating occasion was a success there is no doubt, and marked a
crest of the life of those first five years of the Pilgrims in Plymouth.
* * * * *
Days go on, no matter how bright, they may not be held. In a few years,
changes--as ever.
We may look at a scene on another crisp autumn morning. It is Sunday
and there is stillness in the town. Suddenly the drum rolls and people
come from their houses to assemble for the morning worship in the fort.
The guard has formed in front of the house of Captain Standish. Led
by a sergeant, in rows of three abreast, followed by the Governor,
the Elder, and the Captain, all wearing cloaks and carrying arms,
they march silently up the hill. The rest of the population who may
be going to the service this morning are ready to proceed also, for,
unlike the severity of the rule from which these people fled, church
attendance was expected but not compulsory. There are extra colors and
numbers this morning. The town is entertaining a distinguished guest
whose visit is to mark that tide in their affairs which, owing to their
readiness to take at the flood, is to lead them on to fortune. Plymouth
frequently entertains strangers, but this rotund, handsomely dressed
gentleman, with the sharp eyes seeing all about him, with his several
retainers and trumpeters, who walk on each side of him, though no notes
are sounded this morning, is of more importance than any whom Plymouth
has received. He represents the first foreign mission for commercial
and personal benefits, and is the Secretary of the Dutch colony, five
hundred miles to the southward, Isaac de Rasieres.
The intercourse already satisfactorily begun by negotiations
culminating in this visit, was to be of mutual benefit for many years.
The boat from Manhattan became a regularly welcomed bearer to Plymouth
women of bright materials for clothes, sugar and other necessaries--in
time quite the rival of a boat from England--the payment for these was
by home grown tobacco, therefore nearly as interesting a crop as corn.
Even the latter was to be replaced by something else as a medium of
exchange through the visit of Monsieur de Rasieres. Wampum, familiar
word to us, but strange to Plymouth people, was to make an important
and permanent appearance, and to prove that shells on the shore were as
a gold mine at the feet of the Pilgrims.
The ceremonious ascent to the fort is accomplished, the congregation
taking their places--the women on one side of the room, the men on
the other, according to custom. To the visitor all is strange, new
and interesting. We rejoice in the days he spent in Plymouth, for the
advantage which came to the Pilgrims and for the legacy which came to
us in the form of his written accounts of his visit.
As William Davidson, experienced statesman and courtier, in a long
ago visit to Scrooby, opened a door of destiny through which it was
appointed that William Brewster was to lead this people into a new
world of liberty, so by this visit of Isaac de Rasieres, travelled man
of the world, to Plymouth, another way was opened by which they were
to reach, also prosperity and prominence. The portraits of these two
men should hang as companion medallions in the hall of Pilgrim memory,
as doubtless they did in the mind of William Brewster, himself having
as much worldly experience as either, with the personal attractions of
each; loved friend of one, respected acquaintance of the other.
At this time, the rather difficult role of step-mother was being played
in three of the households. We know the families quite well, and are
particularly interested in the women. The eldest in the position is
Elizabeth Hopkins. If the part did not come easily to Stephen Hopkins’
second wife, the responsibilities of it are now lessened, since
Constance has recently added to the list of _Mayflower_ brides by
marrying Nicholas Snow and going to a home of her own. An impression
seemed to prevail that Mistress Hopkins was rather jealous of her
predecessor’s son, Giles, on account of her own son, Caleb, yet it is
through Giles only, that the name has been carried down to the present.
Her four girls, Damaris, Deborah, Ruth and Elizabeth, made a lively
home for any brother. Oceanus, born on the _Mayflower_, did not live
beyond babyhood. The women of that day were just as human as of this,
and amid all her fine qualities, if there was a little flaw, it no
doubt came of her very fondness for her husband.