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LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This section comes from Longfellow's narrative poem *The Courtship of Miles Standish*.

The poem
Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling, Or an occasional sigh from the laboring heart of the Captain, Reading the marvellous words and achievements of Julius Caesar. After a while he exclaimed, as he smote with his hand, palm downwards, Heavily on the page: "A wonderful man was this Caesar! You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but here is a fellow Who could both write and fight, and in both was equally skilful!" Straightway answered and spake John Alden, the comely, the youthful: "Yes, he was equally skilled, as you say, with his pen and his weapons. Somewhere have I read, but where I forget, he could dictate Seven letters at once, at the same time writing his memoirs." "Truly," continued the Captain, not heeding or hearing the other, "Truly a wonderful man was Caius Julius Caesar! Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian village, Than be second in Rome, and I think he was right when he said it. Twice was he married before he was twenty, and many times after; Battles five hundred he fought, and a thousand cities he conquered; He, too, fought in Flanders, as he himself has recorded; Finally he was stabbed by his friend, the orator Brutus! Now, do you know what he did on a certain occasion in Flanders, When the rear-guard of his army retreated, the front giving way too, And the immortal Twelfth Legion was crowded so closely together There was no room for their swords? Why, he seized a shield from a soldier, Put himself straight at the head of his troops, and commanded the captains, Calling on each by his name, to order forward the ensigns; Then to widen the ranks, and give more room for their weapons; So he won the day, the battle of something-or-other. That's what I always say; if you wish a thing to be well done, You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!" All was silent again; the Captain continued his reading. Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling Writing epistles important to go next day by the Mayflower, Filled with the name and the fame of the Puritan maiden Priscilla; Every sentence began or closed with the name of Priscilla, Till the treacherous pen, to which he confided the secret, Strove to betray it by singing and shouting the name of Priscilla! Finally closing his book, with a bang of the ponderous cover, Sudden and loud as the sound of a soldier grounding his musket, Thus to the young man spake Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth: "When you have finished your work, I have something important to tell you. Be not however in haste; I can wait; I shall not be impatient!" Straightway Alden replied, as he folded the last of his letters, Pushing his papers aside, and giving respectful attention: "Speak; for whenever you speak, I am always ready to listen, Always ready to hear whatever pertains to Miles Standish." Thereupon answered the Captain, embarrassed, and culling his phrases: "'T is not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures. This I have said before, and again and again I repeat it; Every hour in the day, I think it, and feel it, and say it. Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary; Sick at heart have I been, beyond the healing of friendship. Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of the maiden Priscilla. She is alone in the world; her father and mother and brother Died in the winter together; I saw her going and coming, Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the bed of the dying, Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to myself, that if ever There were angels on earth, as there are angels in heaven, Two have I seen and known; and the angel whose name is Priscilla Holds in my desolate life the place which the other abandoned. Long have I cherished the thought, but never have dared to reveal it, Being a coward in this, though valiant enough for the most part. Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of Plymouth, Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of words but of actions, Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and heart of a soldier. Not in these words, you know, but this in short is my meaning; I am a maker of war, and not a maker of phrases. You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in elegant language, Such as you read in your books of the pleadings and wooings of lovers, Such as you think best adapted to win the heart of a maiden." When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired, taciturn stripling, All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewildered, Trying to mask his dismay by treating the subject with lightness, Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart stand still in his bosom, Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is stricken by lightning, Thus made answer and spake, or rather stammered than answered: "Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and mar it; If you would have it well done,--I am only repeating your maxim,-- You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!" But with the air of a man whom nothing can turn from his purpose, Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Captain of Plymouth: "Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to gainsay it; But we must use it discreetly, and not waste powder for nothing. Now, as I said before, I was never a maker of phrases. I can march up to a fortress and summon the place to surrender, But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not. I'm not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon, But of a thundering "No!" point-blank from the mouth of a woman, That I confess I'm afraid of, nor am I ashamed to confess it! So you must grant my request, for you are an elegant scholar, Having the graces of speech, and skill in the turning of phrases." Taking the hand of his friend, who still was reluctant and doubtful, Holding it long in his own, and pressing it kindly, he added: "Though I have spoken thus lightly, yet deep is the feeling that prompts me; Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the name of our friendship!" Then made answer John Alden: "The name of friendship is sacred; What you demand in that name, I have not the power to deny you!" So the strong will prevailed, subduing and moulding the gentler, Friendship prevailed over love, and Alden went on his errand.

Public domain · sourced from Project Gutenberg

Quick summary
This section comes from Longfellow's narrative poem *The Courtship of Miles Standish*. In it, the soldier Miles Standish asks his young friend John Alden to propose to Priscilla Mullins for him, even though Alden secretly loves her too. Standish, who is brave in battle, is scared of being rejected, so he relies on their friendship to have Alden handle the uncomfortable task. Alden, caught between his feelings and loyalty to his friend, ultimately agrees — and for the moment, friendship takes precedence over love.
Themes

Line-by-line

Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling, / Or an occasional sigh from the laboring heart of the Captain,
We begin with a peaceful domestic moment: Alden, the "stripling" or young man, is writing away with great intensity while Standish, with deep sighs, plows through Caesar. Right from the start, we see the contrast — pen versus sword, scholar versus soldier. The term "laboring" shows us that Standish isn’t just reading for pleasure; he puts effort into everything, including his books.
"You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but here is a fellow / Who could both write and fight, and in both was equally skilful!"
Standish is diving into the life of Julius Caesar and is truly impressed. He sees himself and Alden as opposites — one is a fighter, the other is a writer — and views Caesar as the perfect example of someone who can excel at both. This feeling goes beyond mere admiration; it subtly reveals Standish's own awareness of his limitations. He understands what he can't achieve.
"Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian village, / Than be second in Rome, and I think he was right when he said it."
Standish wholeheartedly embraces Caesar's famous ambition. He lists Caesar's accomplishments—battles, cities, marriages—with the fervor of someone who values life by actions taken. The fact that Caesar "was stabbed by his friend, the orator Brutus" hits with a sense of dramatic irony: betrayal by a trusted friend is precisely what Standish is, without realizing it, setting into motion.
"That's what I always say; if you wish a thing to be well done, / You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!"
Standish arrives at his personal motto while recounting Caesar's bravery on the battlefield. The irony is both significant and intentional: he’s about to request something crucial *from* Alden, which goes against this very principle. Longfellow sets up the line for Alden to use against him just moments later.
Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling / Writing epistles important to go next day by the Mayflower,
The scene resets with the same opening line — a structural echo that indicates a new movement. We now discover what Alden has been writing: letters filled with Priscilla's name. The pen "betrays" his secret by almost singing her name on the page. Longfellow is being playful here; even Alden's handwriting seems to be in love with her.
"'T is not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures. / This I have said before, and again and again I repeat it;"
Standish finally reveals his true motives. He quotes Genesis to explain his loneliness and shares how Rose Standish's death has left him feeling empty. His portrayal of Priscilla — patient, brave, an "angel" — is heartfelt, revealing that beneath the soldier's bravado lies a man with deep emotions. He isn't cold; he's simply frightened.
"Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of Plymouth, / Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of words but of actions,"
Here’s the request: Standish presents himself as a man of action who just doesn't have the right words for courtship, and he compliments Alden's education to make his request seem reasonable. The phrase "man not of words but of actions" serves as both a truthful self-assessment and a handy excuse — he's courageous enough to charge a fort but not bold enough to handle a woman's "No."
When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired, taciturn stripling, / All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewildered,
Alden's inner world shatters. The comparison of his heart stopping "just as a timepiece stops in a house that is struck by lightning" stands out as one of Longfellow's finest: abrupt, visceral, complete. Alden attempts to escape by flipping Standish's own saying back on him — "you must do it yourself" — but Standish dismisses it effortlessly.
"But of a thundering 'No!' point-blank from the mouth of a woman, / That I confess I'm afraid of, nor am I ashamed to confess it!"
This is the emotional heart of Standish's argument. The brave soldier openly shares his greatest fear, which is surprisingly charming. He uses battlefield language like "point-blank" and "cannon" to express romantic rejection, as it's the only way he knows to talk about danger. His vulnerability here makes him relatable, even as he prepares to place Alden in a tough spot.
"Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the name of our friendship!" / Then made answer John Alden: "The name of friendship is sacred;"
Standish plays his final card: friendship. Alden folds immediately, not because he has been persuaded but because loyalty to a friend is a moral absolute for him. The last line — "Friendship prevailed over love, and Alden went on his errand" — comes across plainly, almost sadly. Longfellow avoids commentary; he simply allows the fact to resonate.

Tone & mood

The tone throughout is warm and subtly ironic. Longfellow clearly finds humor in the situation — a brave soldier caught off guard by the thought of a woman saying no — but he never makes fun of Standish. He portrays both men with genuine tenderness: Standish's bravado concealing real grief and yearning, while Alden's politeness hides a heart that's breaking. The hexameter lines create a smooth, leisurely rhythm, as if someone is sharing a story they've told many times before and still find enjoyable. By the last line, the irony shifts into a deeper sense of quiet sorrow.

Symbols & metaphors

  • Julius CaesarCaesar represents Standish's vision of the ideal man—someone who can fight as well as write, act as well as express himself. Standish sees in Caesar a reflection of his own shortcomings. The fact that Caesar was "stabbed by his friend" hints at the emotional betrayal Alden is about to undertake, even if he doesn't want to.
  • The hurrying penAlden's pen reflects his inner world—his education, his sensitivity, and his hidden love. It "betrays" him by embedding Priscilla's name in every letter. This pen is what makes him valuable to Standish, ultimately becoming the tool of his own downfall.
  • The stopped timepieceWhen Alden hears Standish's request, it's like his heart is a clock that’s been struck by lightning, completely stopped. This imagery illustrates how shock can freeze someone in place and suggests that something fundamental in Alden's life has changed forever because of this moment.
  • The cannon and the 'No'Standish compares romantic rejection to battlefield scenes — a "thundering No, point-blank from the mouth of a woman." This shows how he views life through the lens of war, highlighting just how unfamiliar emotional vulnerability feels to him.
  • FriendshipFriendship isn't merely a theme in this context; it's portrayed as a named and almost sacred force. When Standish calls upon it, Alden sees it as a duty he must honor without question. It's the one thing that surpasses his love for Priscilla, and Longfellow captures this as both admirable and heartbreaking.
  • The Mayflower lettersThe letters Alden writes for the Mayflower are intended as official Puritan correspondence, yet they keep overflowing with Priscilla's name. They show how personal emotions seep into public life, no matter how much we try to keep them separate.

Historical context

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow published *The Courtship of Miles Standish* in 1858, selling ten thousand copies on its first day in Boston and London—a remarkable achievement for that era. The poem draws from Longfellow's own family history, as he claimed descent from John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, both actual passengers on the Mayflower. Miles Standish was a historical figure too, serving as the military captain of Plymouth Colony. Longfellow chose to write the poem in dactylic hexameter, the same meter used in Homer's *Iliad* and *Odyssey*, aiming to elevate these Puritan settlers to the status of ancient heroes. The 1850s saw a surge of American interest in national origins and founding myths, and Longfellow tapped into that fascination while also sharing a deeply human tale about love, loyalty, and the challenges men face in expressing their feelings.

FAQ

The three main characters—Miles Standish, John Alden, and Priscilla Mullins—were real passengers on the Mayflower. Longfellow said he was a descendant of Alden and Priscilla. It's unclear if Standish really asked Alden to court Priscilla for him, but this tale had been shared in family tradition for generations before Longfellow adapted it into a poem.

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