With the dew and damp of meadows,
With the curling smoke of wigwams,
With the rushing of great rivers,
With their frequent repetitions,
And their wild reverberations,
As of thunder in the mountains.
With “The Courtship of Miles Standish” Longfellow returned to New England and told his first long story of his own district and of his own immediate people. Both “Evangeline” and “Hiawatha” were narratives that ended with themselves. The glory of the Acadians and of the Indians was departed. But “Miles Standish” was like the “New England Tragedies” in dealing with a people who were very much alive. For the early Puritan, Longfellow felt a thorough and abiding respect which was not untinged with humor. For his self-righteousness, his stridency, and his arid lack of feeling for beauty the poet showed an amused contempt, but for the essential qualities of rectitude and abiding persistence he was quite ready to acknowledge his admiration. There is a pleasant personal application in this story which he who runs is likely to overlook. Miles Standish was a worthy man, says Longfellow; he was stalwart, vigorous, practical, and when put to the test he was magnanimous, too. But he was sadly one-sided. It was not enough to be like his own howitzer,
Steady, straightforward, and strong, with irresistible logic,
Orthodox, flashing conviction right into the hearts of the heathen.
He was of the sort who banished the birds of Killingworth with costly consequence. The worthier character was John Alden—“my ancestor”—who was like the Preceptor of Killingworth in his feeling for beauty in nature and in poetry and in song. “Miles Standish” is his most amiable picture of the Puritans. In “The New England Tragedies” Governor Endicott’s death is a poetic and divine retribution for his persecution of the Quakers, and Giles Corey’s sacrifice to the witchcraft mania is a horrid indictment of bigotry unbridled.