Cornelia Meigs

“ The roses and lilies, the pink peonies and white hollyhocks, bloom on, undisturbed, year after year. The great house of mellow brick, covered now with vines to the very roof, looks out over the sea, unchanged. In the garden, romping down the paths and tumbling on the grass, play Master Simon’s children to a far generation. For but a few years, it seems, they frolic there among the flowers and then, grown to men and women, they set off to do their share of the world’s labour. ”

“ The hum of the spinning-wheel and the creak of the loom that once you could hear in the warm noontide, through the open cottage doors, has increased now a thousand-fold, for rows of great brick factories crown the hill and, far out to sea, the fishermen can see, hanging over Hopewell, the cloud of smoke from hundreds of spouting chimneys. The tiny log but where Goody Parsons planted her rose, the cottage where Samuel Skerry plied his trade, even the house with its white-painted doorway where Miles Atherton used to live, have all vanished to make room for newer, greater buildings. ”

“ Every autumn when the first tang of frost was in the air, all the children of Hopewell gathered to pick Master Simon’s bayberries and a merry task they made of it. Then, for days after, would come the sorting of the fruit, the boiling and skimming and the dipping of the wicks. Slowly the candles would take shape until the moment that was to Margeret a breathlessly exciting one when the first pair were placed in the copper candlesticks on the mantel and were lighted to see if all had been properly done and the tapers burned clear, steady and fragrant as they should. ”

“ But surely it must have been a hundred years ago that he, with spade and basket full of nodding yellow flowers or tight-jacketed brown bulbs, had come to set out this little garden that was to grow and spread and fill the glade with sunshine long after he was dead. Wars had raged past them, three generations had come and gone, Indians and wild things had disappeared, forever, from these forest hills, but still the flowers bloomed and faded and bloomed again, silent proof that the work of such hands and hearts as Master Simon’s never died. ”

“ It was an exciting journey back to Hopewell, through the villages where flags were flying and drums beating and where the people came running out to cheer Master Sheffield as he went by; through stretches of dark forest where the rough roads threw them about in the big, clumsy coach and where there might be King’s soldiers lurking in every thicket. Although Stephen assured her that all the redcoats were shut up in Boston, Clotilde rather hoped than dreaded that the little party might be attacked and nobly rescued, perhaps, by Miles Atherton and the brave men of the Hopewell company. ”

“ There were no longer those brilliant, festive gatherings in Stephen’s dining hall, or laughing, gorgeously dressed companies grouped about Master Simon’s wide fireplace in the drawing-room. Instead, grave-faced men would sit late into the night around the table in Stephen’s study, sit so long indeed that more than once Clotilde, slipping down to begin her work in the first faint light of dawn, had found them still in their places, the table covered with guttering candles and strewn with papers, the faces of all looking white and weary and worn. ”

“ His brown head came out at last amid the thinner green at the very top, where he could feel the sun hot upon his neck and where he could look out across meadow and hillside, past the harbour and the headlands to the wide, blue, open sea. He could see, too, like a picture spread below him, Master Simon’s garden with its square flowerbeds, its green hedges and its winding paths. He saw the door of the house fly open and his mother, with flying skirts and ruffled hair, come running across the lawn. ”

“ A dark, whirring mass of bees came swarming out on the instant. Goody Parsons drew back, but there was no need, the line of their flight was straight toward the stooping shoemaker. He hesitated, turned, then clapped one hand to the back of his neck and the other against a smarting knee. Then, with a howl of rage, he made off through the garden, the buzzing cloud of enemies pursuing him even to his cottage door. Goody Parsons chuckled as she saw him go, but it was with shaking hands that she closed the hive.
“May Heaven grant that Master Simon’s garden be never in such danger again!” ”

“ Wonderful things beyond the mere planting of flowers have been done by those who dwelt here. Of all the tales told me by my own grandfather and by Master Sheffield I like best the story of how Master Simon saved the French priest at such great risk to himself, yet would not flee from peril because, as he said, ‘I have planted a garden here in the wilderness and I must abide to see what sort of fruit it bears.’ Ah, such a garden as he planted in this new world, he and his kind, sowing the seeds of liberty and justice and freedom for all! ”

“ She grew to hate the great, coarse, clumsy vegetables that filled Master Simon’s garden and that must continue to grow there, for the feeding of the poor, as long as the war should last. And the war dragged on endlessly, winter, summer, winter again and another summer: would it never cease? Stephen grew frailer and his face was often sharp with suffering, but still he jested over all his ills. He would not even allow Clotilde to complain that it was unjust that he should undergo so much.
“Every one suffers in war time,” he would say. “We can expect nothing else.” ”

“ And if ever happy hearts and loving good wishes made the day so bright that sun and flowers were not needed, they did so at the wedding in Master Simon’s garden. Tall, fair and fragrant the flowers stood in their unbroken rows, only the crimson sweet-william had perished under the shoemaker’s hands. Margeret’s father had heard the tale of Samuel Skerry’s misdoing, but had begged Goody Parsons to say nothing of it as he feared that the wrath of the people would be great. But the old woman’s tongue, given by nature to gossiping, could not quite keep silence now. ”

“ A TALE OF WITCHES Master Simon’s farseeing eyes had certainly discerned the truth when he said that a garden only came to its own when tended by the children’s children of the man who planted it. Fair as were the flowers and shrubs in his own time, they grew steadily more beautiful as the years passed, until people of Hopewell would always bring their visitors from afar to see such glories of leaf and blossom. ”

“ Our Spring comes in a great breathtaking wave, but theirs like some rippling tide that breaks and rises a little and breaks again.”
“It is so we have Spring in England,” said Gerald. He, as well as Stephen seemed to have observed the change in Miles’ manner, and was regarding him with keen curiosity. Clotilde alone seemed not to notice anything unusual, so absorbed was she in what he said.
“I can never forget,” went on Miles, “a meadow all green and yellow with new grasses and a tiny stream flowing through the midst, its banks blue-grey with masses of flowers called Quaker Ladies. ”

“ In the kitchen garden, the apple trees and the row of beehives beneath them had by chance been spared. Yet to see the apple trees blooming alone in a black and desert waste, to watch the bees flying about in bewilderment, looking for flowers that had once yielded such generous honey, was worse, almost, than to have had all perish together. Clotilde had need, through these days, of all her courage and of all Stephen’s shrewdly comforting sayings, to keep up even a show of cheerfulness. ”

“ At the bend in the stream where the little Jesuit priest had built his woodland chapel and decked his altar, there is now a busy humming factory town, called by his name and driving its noisy spinning-wheels by means of the river that once babbled past his door. Rows of toiling men and women can look out through their tall windows down upon the grave of Jeremiah Macrae where the Indians set up a rough white stone at the bidding of their dearly loved French father.
In the midst of all this change and growth and bustle of new business, Master Simon’s garden is still untouched. ”

“ And there, in June, when the linden tree blooms and the bees hum loud in the branches, they sit upon the bench in the Queen’s Garden and hear the story of Master Simon. Over and over, the tale is told, by mother to daughter, by father to son, a long, long story now, for it reaches back to the times of great Queen Elizabeth, and it will go forward, who can tell how far. Each generation has something new to add, some record of danger faced, of hardship endured, of work well done for the good of all. ”

“ Mother Jeanne and one or two of the older servants came with them, the rest sought shelter in the village, so that the house was left unprotected and all alone. Clotilde, looking back through the coach window, could see the kitchen firelight still shining through the vine-hung casement and could feel her hot tears flowing at the thought of rude hands battering at the door of that beloved dwelling and clumsy feet trampling the flowers that still bloomed bravely in the garden. ”

“ They manage, somehow, still to stand and tell all people who go by how great was once the trade that brought prosperity back to Hopewell. If you peep within you will see only bare, vacant floors and a long dusty sunbeam or two, dropping from rifts in the sagging roof, but you will sniff a vague scent of fruit and spices as a reminder of the days of the clipper ships of Hopewell, laden with the world’s goods and following Gerald Radpath’s long sea-road to China. ”

“ A throng of black-faced servants, themselves decked out in livery and powdered wigs, would wait upon the company and later conduct them into the long white-panelled drawing-room whose open windows looked out across the garden to the sea. Or, if it were winter, the guests would gather about the fireplace which, although much of the house was new, was the same rough stone one built by Master Simon’s hands. Amid this gay crowd of friends moved Stephen, quiet-mannered and simply clad, the only ornament upon his dark coat a diamond star given him by the King of France. ”

“ You will not make me, mother?”
“No, I will not force you,” said Margeret, “but shall an old woman die disgraced for want of a word to save her when that word can be spoken, even at the cost of pain and humiliation? Go down into the garden and take counsel with yourself. You shall act in the matter only as you choose.”
Margeret went into the house, taking Amos with her, and left Alisoun to make her decision alone. There, as the dusk fell, she walked among the flowers, back and forth through the calm, quiet, sweet-smelling garden. ”

“ Hark you, Samuel Skerry, if you dare to destroy good Master Simon’s garden, you will have to reckon with the people of Hopewell. I verily believe that they would burn down your house, should you do such a deed.”
“Cease your old woman’s chatter,” he ordered sharply. “I fear the people of Hopewell just as little as I do you. There is no power on earth can stop me now.”
“And is there not?” cried out Goody, shrilly. She struck her hand against the hive and a loud buzzing arose from the angered bees. “Do you hear those voices from within, cobbler Skerry? ”

“ Margeret pursued.
“Ay, safe enough,” he answered, “if the ship once gets to sea. But it is of your danger and Master Simon’s that I am thinking; only the most dire necessity could have led me to bring you into such a hazardous affair. And if it is really true that you saw the shoemaker watching through the hedge, there is no knowing what harm may come. I cannot but hope that in the mist and candlelight your eyes deceived you. I can never forgive myself if harm comes to you through this night’s adventure.” ”

“ Only Master Simon, his wife and his daughter, Margeret, knew the real reason why his garden and fields had greater success than any other’s, knew of the ceaseless labour and genuine love that he expended upon his plants and flowers. Margeret loved them also, and would often rise early and go out with him to weed the hills of Indian corn, water the long beds of sweet-smelling herbs or coax some drooping shrub back to life and bloom. ”

“ He sat for a long time on the bench in the Queen’s Garden, feeling the sun warm upon him and watching the slow shadow of the sundial creep toward the hour.
“Do you see that?” he said to Clotilde, pointing to the steadily lengthening shadow that stretched its dark finger across the dial. “You can as easily stop the movement of that shadow as you can hold back the disaster that threatens these Colonies. Yet many people think that they can accomplish both the one and the other by the simple device of shutting their eyes!” ”

“ Leaving her refuge behind the hawthorn bush, she peeped over the hedge of the little enclosed garden where the sundial stood and where the peacock had once dwelt. Yes, there beyond, under the apple trees stood her mother, with eager eyes and cheeks pink with excitement, as she held up the new hive and sought to lure the bewildered bees within. The air seemed full of their black whirring little bodies, which bye and bye, however, gathered close and finally settled in a huge dark mass, hanging from the linden tree like some strange, gigantic fruit. ”

“ Early the next morning, before it was yet light, there was a tapping at the silver knocker and Clotilde, slipping down with a candle in her hand, opened the door and found David Thurston on the steps. It was a raw, cold November dawn with gusts of rain and a sharp, merciless wind. Yet there stood David and, on the driveway below, mounted on shivering horses, were twelve village lads, muffled in their high-collared homespun coats and fur caps.
“Tell the master when he awakes,” said David hurriedly, “that we are off to the wars again, to fight for General Washington, since his need is so great. ”

“ The French love not the English and have been stirring up the Indians to strike at the New England settlers, to destroy their towns where they can, and to cut off the outlying farms. You have heard of such deeds all about you: you knew that they were ordered by the French but do you know why you have been spared? It was because we who loved Monsieur Simon would not listen to evil counsel, because that garden of his has become, for us, a sacred spot, because when danger threatened, we ringed you round and held you safe. ”