The Big Book of Christmas

by Anton Chekhov

  "Ah, well a day I suppose So, but then I look at my good Master Brewster and remember how, when I was a girl, he was at our good Queen Elizabeth's court, ruffling it with the best, and everybody said that there wasn't a young man that had good fortune to equal his. Why, Master Davidson, the Queen's Secretary of State, thought all the world of him; and when he went to Holland on the Queen's business, he must take him along; and when he took the keys of the cities there, it was my master that he trusted them to, who used to sleep with them under his pillow. I remember when he came home to the Queen's court, wearing the great gold chain that the States had given him. Ah me ! I little thought he would ever come to a poor man's coat, then!"

  * * *

  "Well, good Margery," said Rose, "it isn't the coat, but the heart under it that's the thing. Thou hast more cause of pride in thy master's poverty than in his riches."

  * * *

  "Maybe so I don't know," said Margery, "but he hath had many a sore trouble in worldly things driven and hunted from place to place in England, clapt into prison, and all he had eaten up with fines and charges and costs."

  * * *

  " All that is because he chose rather to suffer afflic- tion with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season," said Rose; "he shall have his reward by and by."

  * * *

  "Well, there be good men and godly in Old Eng- land that get to heaven in better coats and with easy carriages and fine houses and servants, and I would my master had been of such. But if he must come to the wilderness I will come with him. Gracious me! what noise is that?" she exclaimed, as a sudden report of firearms from below struck her ear. " I do believe there is that Frank Billington at the gunpowder; that boy will never leave, I do believe, till he hath blown up the ship's company."

  * * *

  In fact, it appeared that young master Frank, impa- tient of the absence of his father, had toled Wrestling Brewster and two other of the boys down into the cabin to show them his skill in managing his father's fowling-piece, had burst the gun, scattering the pieces about the cabin.

  * * *

  Margery soon appeared, dragging the culprit after her. "Look here now, Master Malapert, see what you'll get when your father comes home ! Lord a mercy ! here was half a keg of powder standing open ! Enough to have blown us all up! Here, Master Clarke, Master Clarke, come and keep this boy with you till his father come back, or we be all sent sky high before we know."

  * * *

  At even tide the boat came back laden to the water's edge with the first gettings and givings, from the new soil of America. There is a richness and sweetness gleaming through the brief records of these men in their journals, which shows how the new land was seen through a fond and tender medium, half poetic; and its new products lend a savor to them of some- what foreign and rare.

  * * *

  Of this day's expedition the record is thus :

  * * *

  " That day, so soon as we could, we set ashore some fifteen or sixteen men well armed, with some to fetch wood, for we had none left ; as also to see what the land was and what inhabitants they could meet with. They found it to be a small neck of land on this side where we lay in the bay, and on the further side the sea, the ground or earth, sand-hills, much like the downs in Holland, but much better ; the crust of the earth a spit's depth of excellent black earth ; all wooded with oaks, pines, sassafras, juniper, birch, holly, vines, some ash and walnut ; the wood for the most part open and without underwood, fit either to walk or to ride in. At night our peo- ple returned and found not any people or inhabitants, and laded their boat with juniper, which smelled very sweet and strong, and of which we burned for the most part while we were there."

  * * *

  "See there," said little Love Winslow, "what fine red berries Captain Miles Standish hath brought."

  * * *

  " Yea, my little maid, there is a brave lot of holly berries for thee to dress the cabin withal. We shall not want for Christmas greens here, though the houses and churches are yet to come."

  * * *

  "Yea, Brother Miles," said Elder Brewster, "the trees of the Lord are full of sap in this land, even the cedars of Lebanon, which he hath planted. It hath the look to me of a land which the Lord our God hath blessed."

  * * *

  "There is a most excellent depth of black, rich earth," said Carver, "and a great tangle of grape- vines, whereon the leaves in many places yet hung, and we picked up stores of walnuts under a tree not so big as our English ones but sweet and well- flavored."

  * * *

  "Know ye, brethren, what in this land smelleth sweetest to me ?" said Elder Brewster. " It is the smell of liberty. The soil is free no man hath claim thereon. In Old England a poor man may starve right on his mother's bosom; there may be stores of fish in the river, and bird and fowl flying, and deer running by, and yet though a man's children be cry- ing for bread, an' he catch a fish or snare a bird, he shall be snatched up and hanged. This is a sore evil in Old England; but we will make a country here for the poor to dwell in, where the wild fruits and fish and fowl shall be the inheritance of whosoever will have them ; and every man shall have his portion of our good mother earth, with no lords and no bishops to harry and distrain, and worry with taxes and tythes."

  * * *

  "Amen, brother!" said Miles Standish, "and thereto I give my best endeavors with sword and buckler."

  Christmas Tide in Plymouth Harbor

  FOR the rest of that month of November the Mayflower lay at anchor in Cape Cod harbor, and formed a floating home for the women and chil- dren, while the men were out exploring the country, with a careful and steady shrewdness and good sense, to determine where should be the site of the future colony. The record of their adventures is given in their journals with that sweet homeliness of phrase which hangs about the Old English of that period like the smell of rosemary in an ancient cabinet.

  * * *

  We are told of a sort of picnic day, when " our women went on shore to wash and all to refresh themselves ;" and fancy the times there must have been among the little company, while the mothers sorted and washed and dried the linen, and the children, under the keeping of the old mastiffs and with many cautions against the wolves and wild cubs, once more had liberty to play in the green wood. For it appears in these journals how, in one case, the little spaniel of John Goodman was chased by two wolves, and was fain to take refuge between his master's legs for shelter. Goodman "had nothing in hand," says the journal, "but took up a stick and threw at one of them and hit him, and they presently ran away, but came again. He got a pale-board in his hand, but they both sat on their tails a good while, grinning at him, and then went their way and left him."

  * * *

  Such little touches show what the care of families must have been in the woodland picnics, and why the ship was, on the whole, the safest refuge for the women and children.

  * * *

  We are told, moreover, how the party who had struck off into the wilderness, " having marched through boughs and bushes and under hills and valleys which tore our very armor in pieces, yet could meet with no inhabitants nor find any fresh water which we greatly stood in need of, for we brought neither beer nor water with us, and our victual was only biscuit and Holland cheese, and a little bottle of aqua vitae. So we were sore athirst. About ten o'clock we came into a deep valley full of brush, sweet gaile and long grass, through which we found little paths or tracks ; and we saw there a deer and found springs of water, of which we were heartily glad, and sat us down and drunk our first New England water with as much delight as we ever drunk drink in all our lives."

  * * *

  Three such expeditions through the country, with all sorts of haps and mishaps and adventures, took up the time until near the i5th of December, when, hav- ing selected a spot for their colony, they weighed anchor to go to their future home.

  * * *

  Plymouth Harbor, as they found it, is thus described :

>   * * *

  " This harbor is a bay greater than Cape Cod, compassed with a goodly land, and in the bay two fine islands uninhabited, wherein are nothing but woods, oaks, pines, walnuts, beeches, sassafras, vines, and other trees which we know not. "The bay is a most hopeful place, innumerable stores of fowl, and excellent good ; and it cannot but be of fish in their season. Skate, cod, and turbot, and herring we have tasted of abundance of mussels (clams) the best we ever saw ; and crabs and lobsters in their time, infinite.

  * * *

  On the main land they write :

  * * *

  " The land is, for a spit's depth, excellent black mould and fat in

  * * *

  some places. Two or three great oaks, pines, walnut, beech, ash, birch, hazel, holly, arid sassafras in abundance, and vines every- where, with cherry-trees, plum-trees, and others which we know not. Many kind of herbs we found here in winter, as strawberry leaves innumerable, sorrel, yarrow, carvel, brook-lime, liver-wort, water- cresses, with great store of leeks and onions, and an excellent strong

  * * *

  kind of flax and hemp."

  * * *

  It is evident from this description that the season was a mild one even thus late into December, that there was still sufficient foliage hanging upon the trees to determine the species, and that the pilgrims viewed their new mother-land through eyes of cheerful hope.

  * * *

  And now let us look in the glass at them once more, on Saturday morning of the 23d of December.

  * * *

  The little Mayflower lies swinging at her moorings in the harbor, while every man and boy who could use a tool has gone on shore to cut down and prepare timber for future houses.

  * * *

  Mary Winslow and Rose Standish are sitting together on deck, fashionmg garments, while little Love Wins- low is playing at their feet with such toys as the new world afforded her strings of acorns and scarlet holly- berries and some bird-claws and- arrowheads and bright- colored ears of Indian corn, which Captain Miles Standish has brought home to her from one of their explorations.

  * * *

  Through the still autumnal air may now and then be heard the voices of men calling to one another on shore, the quick, sharp ring of axes, and anon the crash of falling trees, with shouts from juveniles as the great forest monarch ,is laid low. Some of the women are busy below, sorting over and arranging their little household stores and stuff with a view to moving on shore, and holding domestic consultations with each other.

  * * *

  A sadness hangs over the little company, for since their arrival the stroke of death has more than once fallen; we find in Bradford's brief record that by the 24th of December six had died.

  * * *

  What came nearest to the hearts of all was the loss of Dorothea Bradford, who, when all the men of the party were absent on an exploring tour, accidentally fell over the side of the vessel and sunk in the deep waters. What this loss was to the husband and the little com- pany of brothers and sisters appears by no note or word of wailing, merely by a simple entry which says no more than the record on a gravestone, that, " on the 7th of December, Dorothy, wife of William Brad- ford, fell over and was drowned."

  * * *

  That much-enduring company could afford them- selves few tears. Earthly having aftd enjoying was a thing long since dismissed from their calculations. They were living on the primitive Christian platform ; they " rejoiced as though they rejoiced not," and they " wept as though they wept not," and they " had wives and children as though they had them not," or, as one of themselves expressed it, " We are in all places strangers, pilgrims, travelers and sojourners ; our dwell- ing is but a wandering, our abiding but as a fleeting, our home is nowhere but in the heavens, in that house not made with hands,. whose builder and maker is God."

  * * *

  When one of their number fell they were forced to do as soldiers in the stress of battle close up the ranks and press on.

  * * *

  But Mary Winslow, as she sat over her sewing, drop- ped now and then a tear down on her work for the loss of her sister and counselor and long-tried friend. From the lower part of the ship floated up, at intervals, snatches of an old English ditty that Margery was singing while she moved to and fro about her work, one of those genuine English melodies, full of a rich, strange mournfulness blent with a soothing pathos :

  * * *

  " Fear no more the heat o' the sun

  Nor the furious winter rages,

  Thou thy worldly task hast done,

  Home art gone and ta'en thy wages."

  * * *

  The air was familiar, and Mary Winslow, dropping her work in her lap, involuntarily joined in it:

  * * *

  " Fear no more the frown of the great,

  Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ;

  Care no more to clothe and eat,

  To thee the reed is as the oak."

  * * *

  " There goes a great tree on shore !" quoth little Love Winslow, clapping her hands. " Dost hear, mother? I've been counting the strokes fifteen and then crackle! crackle! crackle! and down it comes!"

  * * *

  Peace, darling," said Mary Winslow; "hear what old Margery is singing below:

  * * *

  " Fear no more the lightning's flash,

  Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone ;

  Fear not slander, censure rash

  Thou hast finished joy and moan.

  * * *

  All lovers young all lovers must

  Consign to thee, and come to dust."

  * * *

  " Why do you cry, mother ?" said the little one, climbing on her lap and wiping her tears.

  * * *

  "I was thinking of dear Auntie, who is gone from us."

  * * *

  "She is not gone from us, mother."

  * * *

  " My darling, she is with Jesus."

  * * *

  " Well, mother, Jesus is ever with us you tell me that and if she is with him she is with us too I know she is for sometimes I see her. She sat by me last night and stroked my head when that ugly stormy wind waked me she looked so sweet, oh, ever so beau- tiful ! and she made me go to sleep so quiet it is sweet to be as she is, mother not away from us but with Jesus."

  * * *

  " These little ones see further in the kingdom than we," said Rose Standish. " If we would be like them, we should take things easier. When the Lord would show who was greatest in his kingdom, he took a little child on his lap."

  * * *

  "Ah me, Rose!" said Mary Winslow, " I am aweary in spirit with this tossing sea-life. I long to have a home on dry land once more, be it ever so poor. The sea wearies me. Only think, it is almost Christmas time, only two days now to Christmas. How shall we keep it in these woods?"

  * * *

  " Aye, aye," said old Margery, coming up at the mo- ment, "a brave muster and to do is there now in old England; and men and boys going forth singing and bearing home branches of holly, and pine, and mistle- toe for Christmas greens. Oh J I remember I used to go forth with them and help-dress the churches. God help the poor children, they will grow up in the wilder- ness and never see such brave sights as I have. They will never know what a church is, such as they are in old England, with fine old windows like the clouds, and rainbows, and great wonderful arches like the very skies above us, and the brave music with the old organs rolling and the boys marching in white gar- ments and singing so as should draw the very heart out of one. All this we have left behind in old En- gland ah! well a day! well a day!"

  * * *

  " Oh, but, Margery," said Mary Winslow, u we have a ' better country ' than old England, where the saints and angels are keeping Christmas ; we confess that we are strangers and pilgrims on earth."

  * * *

  And Rose Standish immediately added the familiar quotation from the Geneva Bible :

  * * *

  " For they that s
ay such things declare plainly that they seek a country. For if they had been mindful of that covfntry from whence they came out they had leisure to have returned. But nowthey desire a better that is, an heavenly ; wherefore God is not ashamed of them to be called their God."

  * * *

  The fair young face glowed as she repeated the heroic words, for already, though she knew it not, Rose Standish was feeling the approaching sphere of the angel life. Strong in spirit, as delicate in frame, she had given herself and drawn her martial husband to the support of a great and noble cause ; but while the spirit was ready, the flesh was weak, and even at that moment her name was written in the Lamb's Book to enter the higher life in one short month's time from that Christmas.