A Pilgrim Maid: A Story of Plymouth Colony in 1620

by Marion Ames Taggart

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Christmas Wins, Though Outlawed

  Little Damaris, who had so nearly made the last great pilgrimage uponwhich we must all go, having turned her face once more toward the worldshe had been quitting, resumed her place in it but languidly. Never arobust child, her slender strength was impaired by the poison which shehad absorbed. Added to this was the sudden coming of winter uponPlymouth, not well prepared to resist it, and it set in with violence,as if to atone for dallying on its way, for allowing summer to overlapits domain. Without a word to each other both Dame Eliza and Constanceentered into an alliance of self-denial, doing without part of the morenourishing food out of their scanty allowance to give it to Damaris, andto plot in other ways to bring her back to health.

  Constance scarcely knew her stepmother. Silent, where she had been proneto talk; patient, where she had been easily vexed; with something almostdeprecatory in her manner where she always had been self-assertive, DameEliza went about her round of work like a person whom her husband'sdaughter had never known.

  Toward Constance most of all was she changed. Never by the most remoteimplication did she blame her, whereas heretofore everything that thegirl did was wrong, and the subject of wearisome, scolding comment. Sheavoided unnecessary speech to Constance, seemed even to try not to lookat her, but this without the effect of her old-time dislike; it wasrather as if she felt humiliated before her, and could not bring herselfto meet the girl's eyes.

  Constance, as she realized this, began to make little overtures towardher stepmother. Her sweetness of nature made her suffer discomfort whenanother was ill-at-ease, but so far her cautious attempts had met withfailure.

  "We have been in Plymouth a year, lacking but a sen' Night, Stepmother,"Constance said one December day when the snow lay white on Plymouth andstill thickened the air and veiled the sky. "And we have been in the NewWorld past a year."

  "It is ordered that we remember it in special prayer and psalmody to theLord, with thanksgiving on the anniversary of our landing; you heardthat, Constantia?" her stepmother responded.

  "No, but that would be seemly, a natural course to follow," saidConstance.

  "There is not one of us who is not reliving the voyage hither and thehard winter of a year ago, I'll warrant. And Christmas is nearing."

  "That is a word that may not be uttered here," said Dame Eliza with agleam of humour in her eyes, though she did not lift them, and aflitting smile across her somewhat grimly set lips.

  "Oh, can it be harmful to keep the day on which, veiled in an infant'sform, man first saw his redemption?" cried Constance. "There weresweetness and holiness in Christmas-keeping, meseems. If only we couldcut out less violently! Stepmother, will you let me have my way?"

  "Your way is not in my guidance, Constantia," said Dame Eliza. "It isfor your father to grant you, or refuse you; not me."

  "This is beyond my father's province," laughed Constance. "Will you letme make a doll--I have my box of paints, and you know that a gift forusing paints and for painting human faces is mine. I will make a doll ofwhite rags and dress her in our prettiest coloured ones, with fasteningsupon her clothes, so that they may be taken off and changed, else wouldshe be a trial to her little mother! And then I will paint her face withmy best skill, big blue eyes, curling golden hair, rose-red cheeks andlips, and a fine, straight little nose. Oh, she shall be a lovelycreature, upon my honour! And will you let me give her to Damaris onChristmas morning, saying naught of it to any one outside this house, sono one shall rebuke us, or fine my father again for letting his childhave a Christmas baby, as they fined him for letting Ted and Ned play ata harmless game? Then I shall know that there is one happy child on thebirthday of Him who was born that all children, of all ages, should behappy, and that it will be, of all the possible little ones, our dearlittle lass who is thus full of joy!"

  Mistress Hopkins did not reply for a moment. Then she raised the cornerof her apron and wiped her eyes, muttering something about "strongmustard."

  "How fond you are of my little Damaris," she then said. "You know,Constantia, that I have no right to consent to your keeping Christmas,since our elders have set their faces dead against all practices of theOld Church. Yet are your reasons for wishing to do this, or so it seemsto me in my ignorance, such as Heaven would approve, and it sorely isborne upon me that many worser sins may be wrought in Plymouth thanmaking a delicate child happy on the birthday of the Lord. Go, then, andmake your puppet, but do not tell any one that you first consulted me.If trouble comes of it they will blame you less, who are young and notso long removed from the age of dolls, than me, who am one of theMothers in Israel."

  "Oh, thank you, thank you, Stepmother!" cried Constance jumping up andclapping her hands with greater delight than if she had herself receiveda Christmas gift.

  "I'll never betray you, never! None shall know that any but my wicked,light-minded self had a hand in this profanation of----. What does itprofane, Stepmother?"

  "Plymouth and Plymouth pilgrimage," said Dame Eliza, and this time thesmile that she had checked before had its way.

  Constance ran upstairs to look for the pieces which were to betransformed by fairy magic, through her means, from shapeless rags to afair and rosy daughter for pale Damaris. She remembered, wondering, asshe knelt before her chest, that she had clapped her hands and pranced,and that Dame Eliza had not reproved her.

  Constance was busy with her doll till Christmas morning, the more sothat she must hide it from Damaris and there was not warmth anywhere tosit and sew except in the great living room where Damaris amused Oceanusmost of the darksome days. But Damaris's mother connived with Constanceto divert the child, and there were long evenings, for, to giveConstance more time, Dame Eliza put Damaris early to bed, and Constancesat late at her sewing.

  Thus when Christmas day came there sat on the hearth, propped up againstthe back of Stephen Hopkins's big volume of Shakespeare, a doll with apainted face that had real claim to prettiness. She wore a gown ofsprigged muslin that hung so full around the pointed stomacher of herwaist that it was a scandal to sober Plymouth, and a dangerous exampleto Damaris, had she been inclined to vain light-mindedness. And--thoughthis was a surprise also to Dame Eliza--there was a horse of brownwoollen stuff, with a tail of fine-cut rags and a mane of ravelled rags,and legs which, though considerably curved as to shape and unreliable asto action, were undeniably legs, and four in number. There were bright,black buttons on the steed's head suggestive of eyes, and the red paintin two spots below them were all the fiery nostrils the animal required.This was Giles's contribution to the joy of his ailing baby brother.Oceanus was a frail child whose grasp on life had been taken at a timetoo severe for him to hold it long, nor indeed did he.

  "Come out and wander down the street, Con," Giles whispered to Constanceunder the cover of the shouts of the two children who had comedownstairs to find the marvellous treasures, the doll and horse,awaiting them, and who went half mad with joy, just like modern childrenin old Plymouth, as if they had not been little pilgrims.

  "There will be amusement for thee; come out, but never say I bade youcome. You can make an errand."

  "Oh, Giles, you are not plotting mischief?" Constance implored, seeingthe fun in her brother's eyes and fearing an attempt at Christmasfooling.

  "No harm afoot, but we hope a little laughter," said Giles, noddingmysteriously as he left the house.

  Constance could not resist her curiosity. She wrapped herself in hercloak against the cold and tied a scarf over her hair, before drawingits hood over her head.

  "You look like a witch, like a sweet, lovely witch," cried Damaris,getting up from her knees on which she had seemed, and not unjustly, tobe worshipping her doll, whom she had at once christened Connie, andrunning over to hug her sister, breathless. "Are you a witch, Constance,and made my Connie by magic? No, a fairy! A fairy you are! My fairy,darling, lovely sister!"

  "Be grateful to Constantia, as you should be, Damaris, but prate not offairies. I wil
l not let go undone all my duty as a Puritan and pilgrimmother. Constantia is a kind sister to you, which is better, than afairy falsehood," said Dame Eliza, rallying something of her old spirit.

  Constance kissed Damaris and whispered something to her so softly thatall the child caught was "Merry." Yet the lost word was not hard toguess.

  Then Constance went out and down the street, wondering what Giles hadmeant. She saw a small group of men before her, near the generalstorehouse for supplies, and easily made out that they were the youngermen of the plantation, including those that had come on the _Fortune_,and that Giles and Francis Billington were to the fore.

  Up the street in his decorous raiment, but without additional marking ofthe day by his better cloak as on Sunday, came Governor Bradford withhis unhastening pace not quickened, walking with his English thorn stickthat seemed to give him extra, gubernatorial dignity, toward the group.The younger lads nudged one another, laughing, half afraid, but notGiles. He stood awaiting the governor as if he faced him for a seriouscause, yet Constance saw that his eyes danced.

  "Good morning, my friends," said William Bradford. "Not at work? You areapportioned to the building of the stockade. It is late to begin yourday, especially that the sun sets early at this season."

  "It is because of the season, though not of the sun's setting, that weare not at work," said Giles, chosen spokesman for this prank by hisfellows, and now getting many nudges lest he neglect his office. "Hastforgotten, Mr. Bradford, what day this is? It offends our conscience towork on a day of such high reverence. This be a holy day, and we may notwork without sin, as the inward voice tells us. We waited to explain toyou what looked like idleness, but is rather prompted by high and loftyprinciples."

  The governor raised his eyebrows and bowed deeply, not without a slighttwitching of his lips, as he heard this unexpected and solemn protest.

  "Indeed, Giles Hopkins! And is it so? You have in common with these,your fellow labourers, a case of scruples to which the balm of theopinions of your elders and betters, at least in experience andauthority, does not apply? Far be it from me to interfere with yourconsciences! We have come to the New World, and braved no slightadversity for just this cause, that conscience unbridled, undriven,might guide us in virtue. Disperse, therefore, to your homes, and forthe day let the work of protection wait. I bid you good morning,gentlemen, and pray you be always such faithful harkeners to the voiceof conscience."

  The governor went on, having spoken, and the actors in the farce lookedcrestfallen at one another, the point of the jest somewhat blunted bythe governor's complete approval. Indeed there were some among them whofollowed the governor. He turned back, hoping for this, and said:

  "This is not done to approve of Christmas-keeping but rather to spareyou till you are better informed."

  "What will you do, Giles?" asked Constance, as her brother joined her,Francis also, not in the least one with those who relinquished the ideaof a holiday.

  "Do? Why follow our consciences, as we were commended for doing!"shouted Francis tossing his hat in the air and catching it neatly on hishead in the approved fashion of a mountebank at a fair in England.

  "Our consciences bid us play at games on Christmas," supplemented Giles."Would you call the girls and watch us? Or we'll play some games thatyou can join in, such as catch-catch, or pussy-wants-a-corner."

  Constance shook her head. "Giles, be prudent," she warned. "You havewon your first point, but if I know the governor's face there wassomething in it that betokened more to come. You know there'll be noputting up with games on any day here, least of all on this day, whichwould be taken as a return to abandoned ways. Yet it is comical!"Constance added, finding her role of mentor irksome when all her youthcried out for fun.

  "Good Con! You are no more ready for unbroken dulness than we are!"Francis approved her. "Come along, Giles; get the bar for throwing, andthe ball, and who said pitch-and-toss? I have a set of rings I made, Iand--someone else." Francis's face clouded. Pranks had lost much oftheir flavour since he lacked Jack.

  Seeing this, Giles raced Francis off, and the other conscientious youthswho refused work, streamed after them.

  Constance continued her way to the Alden home. She thought that a timelyvisit to Priscilla would bring her home at such an hour as to let hersee the end of the morning escapade.

  Elizabeth Tilley drifted into Priscilla's kitchen in an aimless way, notlike her usual busy self, although she made the reason for her coming arecipe which she needed. Soon Desire Minter followed her, askingPriscilla if she would show her how to cut an apron from a worn-outskirt, but, like Elizabeth, Desire seemed listless and uncertain.

  "There's something wrong!" cried Desire at last, without connection."There is a sense of there being Christmas in the world somewhereto-day, and not here! I am glad that I go back to England as soon asopportunity offers."

  "There is Christmas here, most conscientiously kept!" laughed Constance."Hark to the tale of it!" And she told the girls what had happened thatmorning.

  "Come with me, bear me company home, and we shall, most probably, seethe end of it, for I am sure that the governor is not done with thoselads," she added.

  Desire and Elizabeth welcomed the suggestion, for they were, also, aboutto go home.

  "See yonder!" cried Constance, pointing.

  Down the street there was what, in Plymouth, constituted a crowd,gathered into two bands. With great shouting and noise one band wasthrowing a ball, which the other band did its utmost to prevent fromentering a goal toward which the throwers directed it. Alone, one youngman was throwing a heavy bar, taking pride in his muscles which balancedthe bar and threw it a long distance with ease and grace.

  "To think that this is Plymouth, with merrymaking in its street onChristmas day!" exclaimed Desire, her eyes kindling with pleasure.

  "Ah, but see the governor is coming, leading back those men who went towork; he has himself helped to build the stockade. Now we shall see howhe receives this queer idea of a holiday, which is foreign to us, thoughit comes from England," said Constance.

  Governor Bradford came toward the shouting and mirth-making with hisdignified gait unvaried. The game slackened as he drew nearer, thoughsome of the players did their best to keep it up at the same pace, notto seem to dread the governor's disapproval.

  Having gained the centre of the players, the governor halted, and lookedfrom one to another.

  "Hand me that ball, and yonder bar, and all other implements of playwhich you have here," he said, sternly. "My friends," he added to themen who had been at work, "take from our idlers their toys."

  There was no resistance on the part of the players; they yielded upbats, ball, and bar, the stool-ball, goal sticks, and all else, withoutdemur, curious to see what was in the wind.

  "Now, young men of Plymouth colony," said Governor Bradford, "thismorning you told me that your consciences forbade you to work onChristmas day. Although I could not understand properly trained Puritanconsciences going so astray, yet did I admit your plea, not beingwilling to force you to do that which there was a slender chance of yourbeing honest in objecting to, for conscience sake. You have not workedwith your neighbours for half of this day. Now doth my consciencearouse, nor will it allow me, as governor, to see so many lusty men atplay, while others labour for our mutual benefit. Therefore I forbid theslightest attempt at game-playing on this day. If your consciences willnot allow you to labour then will mine, though exempting you from workbecause of your sense of right, yet not allow you to play while otherswork. For the rest of this day, which is called Christmas, but which weconsider but as the twenty-fifth day of this last month of the year, youwill either go to work, or you will remain close within your varioushouses, on no account to appear beyond your thresholds. For either thisis a work-a-day afternoon, or else is it holy, which we by no meansadmit. In either case play is forbidden you. See to it that you obey me,or I will deal with you as I am empowered to deal."

  The young men looked at one another,
some inclined to resent this,others with a ready sense of humour, burst out laughing; among theselatter was Giles, who cried:

  "Fairly caught, Governor Bradford! You have played a Christmas game thisday yourself and have won out at it! For me, as a choice between stayingclose within the house and working, I will take to the stockade. By yourleave, then, Governor, I will join you at the work, dinner being over."

  "You have my leave, Giles Hopkins," said William Bradford, and there wasa twinkle in his eyes as he turned them, with no smile on his lips, uponGiles.

  Giles went home with Constance in perfect good humour, taking the end ofhis mischief in good part.

  "For look you," he said, summing up comments upon it to his sister. "Idon't mind encountering defeat by clever outwitting of me. We tried ascheme and the governor had a better one. What I mind is unfairness;that was fair, and I like the governor better than I ever did before."

  Stephen Hopkins stood in the doorway of the house as the brother andsister came toward it. He was gazing at the skyline with eyes that sawnothing near to him, preoccupied, wistful, in a mood that was rare tohim, and never betrayed to others. His eyes came back to earth slowly,and he looked at Giles and Constance as one looks who has difficulty inseeing realities, so occupied was he with his thoughts. He put out ahand and took one of Constance's hands, drawing it up close to hisbreast, and he laid his left hand heavily on Giles's shoulder.

  "Across that ocean it is Christmas day," he said, slowly. "In Englandpeople are sitting around their hearths mulling ale, roasting apples,singing old songs and carols. When I was young your mother and I rodemiles across a dim forest, she on her pillion, I guiding a mettlesomebeauty. But she had no fear with my hand on his bridle; we had beenmarried but since Michaelmas. We went to visit your grandmother, hermother, Lady Constantia, who was a famous toast in her youth. You arevery like your mother, Constance; I have often told you this. Strange,that one can inhabit the same body in such different places in alifetime; stranger that, still in the same body, he can be such analtered man! Giles, my son, I have been thinking long thoughts to-day.There is something that I must say to you as your due; nay something,rather, that I want to say to you. I have been wrong, my son. I haveloved you so well that a defect in you annoyed me, and I have been hard,impatient, offending against the charity in judgment that we owe allmen, surely most those who are our nearest and dearest. I accused youunjustly, and gave you no opportunity to explain. Giles, as man to man,and as a father who failed you, I beg your pardon."

  "Oh, sir! Oh, dear, dear Father!" cried Giles in distress. "It needednot this! All I ask is your confidence. I have been an arrogant youngupstart, denying you your right to deal with me. It is I who am wrong,wrongest in that I have never confessed the wrong, and asked yourforgiveness. Surely it is for me to beg your pardon; not you mine!"

  "At least a good example is your due from me," said Stephen Hopkins,with a smile of wistful tenderness. "We are all upstarts, Giles lad,denying that we should receive correction, and this from a Greater thanI. The least that we can do is to be willing to acknowledge our errors.With all my heart I forgive you, lad, and I ask you to try to love me,and let there be the perfect loving comradeship between us that, it hathseemed, we had left behind us on the other shore, just when it was mostneeded to sustain us in our venture on this one. You loved me well,Giles, as a child; love me as well as you can as a man."

  Giles caught his father's hand in both of his, and was not ashamed thattears were streaming down his cheeks.

  "Father, I never loved you till to-day!" he cried. "You have taught metrue greatness, and--and--Oh, indeed I love and honour you, dear sir!"

  "The day of good will, and of peace to it! And of love that triumphsover wrongs," said Stephen Hopkins, turning toward the house, andwhimsically touching with his finger-tips the happy tears that quiveredon Constance's lashes.

  "We cannot keep it out of Plymouth colony, however we strive to erectbarriers against the feast; Christmas wins, though outlawed!"

  "God rest ye merry, gentlemen; Let nothing you dismay,"

  Constance carolled as she hung up her cloak, her heart leaping inrapture of gratitude. Nor did Dame Eliza reprove her carol, but halfsmiled as Oceanus crowed and beat a pan wildly with his Christmas horse.