Original Text
|
Modern Text
|
|
Then, too, the people were countenanced, if not encouraged, in relaxing the
severe and close application to their various modes of rugged industry, which,
at all other times, seemed of the same piece and material with their religion.
Here, it is true, were none of the appliances which popular merriment would so
readily have found in the England of Elizabeth’s time, or that of James;—no rude
shows of a theatrical kind; no minstrel with his harp and legendary ballad, nor
gleeman, with an ape dancing to his music; no juggler, with his tricks of mimic
witchcraft; no Merry Andrew, to stir up the multitude with jests, perhaps
hundreds of years old, but still effective, by their appeals to the very
broadest sources of mirthful sympathy. All such professors of the several
branches of jocularity would have been sternly repressed, not only by the rigid
discipline of law, but by the general sentiment which gives law its vitality.
Not the less, however, the great, honest face of the people smiled, grimly,
perhaps, but widely too. Nor were sports wanting, such as the colonists had
witnessed, and shared in, long ago, at the country fairs and on the
village-greens of England; and which it was thought well to keep alive on this
new soil, for the sake of the courage and manliness that were essential in them.
Wrestling-matches, in the differing fashions of Cornwall and Devonshire, were
seen here and there about the market-place; in one corner, there was a friendly
bout at quarterstaff; and—what attracted most interest of all—on the platform of
the pillory, already so noted in our pages, two masters of defence were
commencing an exhibition with the buckler and broadsword. But, much to the
disappointment of the crowd, this latter business was broken off by the
interposition of the town beadle, who had no idea of permitting the majesty of
the law to be violated by such an abuse of one of its consecrated
places.
|
And the people were allowed, if not exactly encouraged, to relax the severe
discipline of their work ethic, which so often seemed to be the same thing as
their religion. True, there were none of the elements a public celebration would
have had in Elizabethan England: no crude theatrical shows, no ballad-singing
minstrel, no musician and dancing ape, no juggler, and no jester with his
timeworn, well-loved jests. All such professors in the art of humor would have
been repressed by both the rigid discipline of the law and by the general
sentiment of the public. And yet nonetheless, the great, honest face of the
people showed a smile—a grim smile, maybe, but a wide one. And there were games
of the sort that the colonists had seen and taken part in long ago, at the
county fairs and on the village greens of England. It was thought that keeping
them alive in this new country would encourage courage and manliness. Wrestling
matches were seen here and there in the marketplace. In one corner, there was a
friendly fight with wooden staffs. But the pillory platform—already so well
noted in these pages—attracted the greatest attention. There, two masters of
defense were staging an exhibition with swords and shields. But, to the crowd’s
great disappointment, this last show was cut short by the town beadle, who would
not permit the seriousness of the place to be violated.
|
|
It may not be too much to affirm, on the whole, (the people being then in the
first stages of joyless deportment, and the offspring of sires who had known how
to be merry, in their day,) that they would compare favorably, in point of
holiday keeping, with their descendants, even at so long an interval as
ourselves. Their immediate posterity, the generation next to the early
emigrants, wore the blackest shade of Puritanism, and so darkened the national
visage with it, that all the subsequent years have not sufficed to clear it up.
We have yet to learn again the forgotten art of gayety.
|
These people were the sons and daughters of fathers who had known how to have
a good time, in their day. It may not be exaggeration to say that these
Puritans’ celebrations would compare favorably with those of their descendants,
even such distant descendants as us. The sons and daughters of those in the
marketplace that day put on the blackest shade of Puritanism, so darkening the
national character that it has never cleared up again. We have yet to relearn
the forgotten art of joyfulness.
|
|
The picture of human life in the market-place, though its general tint was the
sad gray, brown, or black of the English emigrants, was yet enlivened by some
diversity of hue. A party of Indians—in their savage finery of curiously
embroidered deer-skin robes, wampum-belts, red and yellow ochre, and feathers,
and armed with the bow and arrow and stone-headed spear—stood apart, with
countenances of inflexible gravity, beyond what even the Puritan aspect could
attain. Nor, wild as were these painted barbarians, were they the wildest
feature of the scene. This distinction could more justly be claimed by some
mariners,—a part of the crew of the vessel from the Spanish Main,—who had come
ashore to see the humors of Election Day. They were rough-looking desperadoes,
with sun-blackened faces, and an immensity of beard; their wide, short trousers
were confined about the waist by belts, often clasped with a rough plate of
gold, and sustaining always a long knife, and, in some instances, a sword. From
beneath their broad-brimmed hats of palm-leaf, gleamed eyes which, even in good
nature and merriment, had a kind of animal ferocity. They transgressed, without
fear or scruple, the rules of behaviour that were binding on all others; smoking
tobacco under the beadle’s very nose, although each whiff would have cost a
townsman a shilling; and quaffing, at their pleasure, draughts of wine or
aqua-vitae from pocket-flasks, which they freely tendered to the gaping crowd
around them. It remarkably characterized the incomplete morality of the age,
rigid as we call it, that a license was allowed the seafaring class, not merely
for their freaks on shore, but for far more desperate deeds on their proper
element. The sailor of that day would go near to be arraigned as a pirate in our
own. There could be little doubt, for instance, that this very ship’s crew,
though no unfavorable specimens of the nautical brotherhood, had been guilty, as
we should phrase it, of depredations on the Spanish commerce, such as would have
perilled all their necks in a modern court of justice.
|
Although the marketplace was full of sadly dressed English settlers, in grays
and browns and blacks, there was some diversity to liven the scene. A group of
Indians were dressed in their savage best: oddly embroidered deerskin robes,
belts strung with beads, red and yellow body paint, and feathers. They were
armed with bow and arrow and stone-tipped spear. They stood apart from the
crowd, with faces of unmoving seriousness—beyond what even the Puritans could
achieve. As wild as these painted barbarians were, they weren’t the wildest
aspect of the scene. That title could be justly claimed by a group of sailors:
the crew of the Spanish ship, come ashore to see the festivities of Election
Day. They were rough-looking adventurers with sun-blackened faces and immense
beards. Their short pants were kept up by belts, often clasped with a rough
plate of gold, and holding a long knife and sometimes even a sword. Under their
broad, palm-leaf hats gleamed eyes that had an animal ferocity, even when
good-natured and merry. Without fear or reservation, they broke the accepted
rules of behavior. They smoked tobacco under the beadle’s nose, which would have
cost any townsman a fine. They drank wine or whisky from pocket flasks whenever
they pleased, offering drinks to the shocked crowd that surrounded them. We
think of the morality of that time as rigid, but it wasn’t, really: Sailors were
allowed a lot of leeway, not just for their hijinks on shore but also for far
greater crimes at sea. The sailor of that day would be hunted as a pirate in our
own. There could be little doubt, for instance, that the crew of this very ship
had been guilty of stealing Spanish goods. Today, they would face
hanging.
|
