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.
Across the street, in the governor’s house, Alice Bradford has three boys to share the love and interest with her own, and the devotion of four. We have already seen one of them, Thomas Cushman, left by his father with Governor Bradford, until he should return to live in Plymouth—but Myles Standish, returning from his mission to England, had brought with other regretful tidings, the knowledge that Robert Cushman would not come again. Another fatherless boy, whom we have had but a glimpse of, is Nathaniel Morton, nephew to Alice Bradford. George Morton lived but a short time as resident of Plymouth, leaving his wife and family alone in the new house, but the governor took Nathaniel to bring up as a son, and Juliana Carpenter Morton married again. The third boy is also fatherless in actual sense; he has recently come to Plymouth, but to the most loving mother and affectionate step-father boy could desire, for this is Constant Southworth come from London to his new home in the governor’s house in Plymouth, as his mother had done, whom he strongly resembles in looks. And the fourth boy? He is not fatherless, but has only lately come to renew both the acquaintance and affection of his parent, being John Bradford, from Amsterdam, youngest of the quartette, and seeing him we are reminded of his girl mother, the governor’s first wife. This group is soon to be added to by Thomas Southworth, whom his mother is expecting from England. We can imagine these boys having a pretty good time in the loving home of the Bradfords, and among them grew up the three babies, half brothers and half sister to John Bradford and the Southworth boys—only one girl to amuse and tease them through the years of childhood, the governor’s daughter, Mercy. Although step-mother to but one, the part had no chance for prominence with Alice Bradford, in being at the same time aunt to one, friend to another and mother to five. Perhaps it was because of this masculine element at home, that Mistress Bradford was known for her special interest in the young girls of the colony—daughters of her neighbors and playmates of her Mercy, such advantages and accomplishments as she had, she taught them. No wonder she welcomed her husband’s suggestion of having her youngest sister, Priscilla Carpenter, come from England to make her home with them.
Another woman, of the style and character of Alice Bradford, the third and youngest step-mother, making such a success in her position as to prove her the good angel of the family into which she came, is Fear Brewster—now Mrs. Isaac Allerton. She already had the love of Bartholomew, Remember and Mary—quite grown out of childhood, but they must have been as surprised as the rest of the society of Plymouth that their father could win her for his wife, as he was so much older than she and always seeming rather preoccupied and self-satisfied. It speaks well for him that such was the case and that her attachment and loyalty never wavered through the brief years of her married life—and that it was a shield to him from public criticism or censure is well known. This not only places her before us against a background of esteem for herself, but in a reflection of the high regard and affection in which her father was held. Before matrimonial trials confronted her daughter, Mary Brewster, loved and loving, finished her pilgrimage; the lack of her presence affected many lives, her absence was an abiding sorrow. Love of wealth seems suddenly to have overtaken Isaac Allerton which made everything else of small importance. The pursuit of it took him constantly and for long periods away from home, so his wife had little of his company. His talents were of use to the colony, at times, in England, but he seemed to really care very little for his old friends. Nevertheless, it was he who completed the arrangements which closed the connection between the original settlers of Plymouth and the Merchant Adventurers in London. Plymouth, thereby, paid all its indebtedness for assistance given and went its way alone. He also procured patents for increased land holdings for the colony, especially in Maine. His complete indifference to anything but his own ends was, perhaps, never better shown than when he returned from one of his trips to England, bringing, as secretary, a man who was already too well and unfavorably known by Plymouth and the surrounding settlements, called Morton of Merry Mount, who had been sent to England the year before, as an undesirable. That Allerton could bring this man to his home, into the society of his wife and daughters, made Plymouth gasp—and Plymouth refused to stand it. The secretary was dismissed, and business affairs again called Isaac Allerton away. On one of his trips he took his son to visit in England, and Bartholomew did not return to Plymouth.