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<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PILGRIM FATHERS OF NEW ENGLAND: A HISTORY ***</div>


<div class="transnote">
<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE</strong></p>

<p>Footnote anchors are denoted by <span class="fnanchor">[number]</span>, 
and the footnotes have been placed at the end of the book.</p>

<p class="customcover">New original cover art included with this eBook is 
granted to the public domain.</p>

<p>Some minor changes to the text are noted at the <a href="#TN">end of the book.</a>
<span class="screenonly">These are indicated by a <ins class="corr">dashed blue</ins> underline.</span></p>
</div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>

<h1>
<span class="fs80">THE</span><br>
<span class="fs150 lsp2">PILGRIM FATHERS</span><br>
<span class="fs60">OF</span><br>
<span class="fs135 lsp">NEW ENGLAND:</span><br>
<span class="fs100">A HISTORY.</span></h1>

<p class="p3 pfs120">BY W. CARLOS MARTYN,</p>

<p class="p1 pfs70">AUTHOR OF THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JOHN MILTON, A HISTORY<br>
OF THE ENGLISH PURITANS, ETC.</p>

<div class="p2 poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“What sought they there, whose steps were on the dust</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of the old forest lords? Not summer skies,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Nor genial zephyrs, nor the amenities</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of golden spoils. Their strength was in the trust</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">That breasts all billows of the abyss of time,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The <span class="smcap">Rock of Ages</span>, and its hopes sublime.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent25"><span class="smcap">American Souvenir.</span></div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="p4 pfs90 lsp">PUBLISHED BY THE</p>
<p class="pfs100 lsp2">AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY,</p>
<p class="pfs80 lsp">150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>

<p class="p4 p4b fs90">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
the <span class="smcap">American Tract Society</span>, in the Clerk’s Office of the District
Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[Pg 3]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak fs150 lsp2" id="PREFACE">PREFACE.</h2>
<hr class="r20">

<p>Lord Bacon assigns the highest meed of earthly
fame to the builders of states, <i lang="la">conditores imperiorum</i>.
The Pilgrim Fathers were members of that guild, and
their story belongs to the heroic age of America. “No
other state,” remarks Stoughton, “can boast of such an
origin, and adorn its earliest annals with a tale as true
as it is beautiful, as authentic as it is sublime.”</p>

<p>But aside from the honor which attends the Forefathers
as the founders of empire, they march down the
ages crowned with richer and more fragrant laurels;
for they built not for themselves or for posterity alone,
in imitation of Romulus, and Cyrus, and Cæsar, and
Ottoman; they planted also for justice and for God.</p>

<p>Therefore they are the rightful heirs of the benedictions
of mankind; while to Americans they are doubly
precious as “the parents of one-third of the whole white
population of the Republic.”</p>

<p>Of course, the career of the Pilgrim Fathers has been
often painted: but the interest of the story is inexhaustible,
and its thrilling incidents exhibit the wisdom, the
benevolence, the faithfulness of God in so many glorious
and delightful aspects, and are so replete with
facts whose inevitable tendency is to inflame the love,
strengthen the faith, and awaken the wondering gratitude
of the human heart, that it is impossible to wear
the “twice-told tale” threadbare by repetition. Besides,
a thoughtful scholar, who has himself laid his garland
of everlasting upon the altar of the Pilgrims, has reminded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span>
us that, “however well history may have been
written, it is desirable that it should be re-written from
time to time by those who look from an advanced position,
giving in every age to the peculiar and marked
developments of the past, a simple, compact, and picturesque
representation.”</p>

<p>This sketch runs back to the cradle of Puritanism;
summarily rehearses the causes of which it was begotten;
accompanies the Pilgrim Fathers across the channel,
and depicts the salient features of their residence
in Holland, and the reasons which pushed them to
further removal; sails with them in the “Mayflower”
over the stormy winter sea; recites in some detail, the
incidents which accompanied the settlement at Plymouth
and the kindred colonies throughout New England;
and closes in the sunshine of that league between
the New England colonies which was the prophecy of
the Republic, and the crowning glory of those who are
distinctively called the <em>Pilgrim Fathers</em>.</p>

<p>The volume has been carefully written, and it is
fortified by copious marginal notes and citations from a
wide range of authoritative authors, from the humblest
diarist to the most pretentious compiler who struts in
the rustling satin of history.</p>

<p>This is “a round unvarnished tale,” and aims at fairness
of statement, not copying that dealer in history
whom Lucian derides for always styling the captain of
his own party an Achilles, and the leader of the opposition
a Thersites. Nor does it enter the “debateable
ground” of sectarian polity; but avoiding alike the
Scylla of indiscriminate encomium, and the Charybdis
of controversy, it merely reproduces the broad and unquestioned
facts of an emigration whose purpose and
whose result was to</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Win the wilderness for God.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">New York</span>, January, 1867.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak fs150 lsp2" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2>
<hr class="r20">


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER I.</p>
<p class="right fs70">PAGE</p>

<p class="negin2">Spiritual Forces and the Motors of Materialism—English Puritanism—Its
Conflicts with the Dramatic Religion of the Popes—Aspiration—The
Modern Era—The Recast Ecclesiasticism—Two
Parties in the New-modelled English Church—The Puritans—The
Conformists—The Error of the Church-and-state
Reformers—The Epic of our Saxon Annals—Britain, emancipated
from the Pope, hugs the <em>Popedom</em>—Persecution—The
Separatists—Their Disappointment—The Separatists of the
North of England—Division in the Protestant World—The
Philosophy of Luther—Calvin’s <em>Rationale</em>—The Separatists adhere
to Calvin—The Raid for Exact Conformity—The <span class="smcap">Pilgrim
Fathers</span> prepare to quit the Island—Pilgrim Traits—Obstacles—The
Attempted Exodus—Treachery—The Pilgrims “rifled
by the Catchpole Officers”—Imprisonment—The Second Attempt—The
Rendezvous—A Midnight Scene by the Sea-shore—Arrival
of the Ship—The Stranded Barque—The Captain’s
Alarm—The Ship sails—The Deserted Dear Ones on Shore—A
Woful Picture—Captured—The Storm—Holland at last—Reunion</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER II.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Quays of Amsterdam—Quaint Aspect of the City—Its History—The
Pilgrims and the Dutch Burghers—Strange Characteristics
of Dutch Social Life—The Pilgrims go to Work—Their
Employments—The Removal to Leyden—Reason of the Change
of Residence—Leyden—Its Thrilling Story—The Exiles “raise
a Competent and Decent Living”—They “enjoy much Sweet
Society and Spiritual Comfort together in the Ways of God”—John
Robinson—Elder Brewster—The Pilgrims grow in Knowledge
and Gifts—Their Discipline—Robinson’s Wisdom—The
Exiles win the Cordial Love and Respect of the Dutch—An<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span>
Illustration—Testimony of the Leyden Magistrates—The Controversy—Robinson
and Episcopius—The Debate—“Famous
Victory” of the English Divine—Reformed Churches of the
Continent—Catholicity of the Pilgrims—Their Bias towards
Religious Democracy—<i lang="la">Peregrini Deo curæ</i></p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER III.</p>

<p class="negin2">Many Circumstances conspire to render the Exiles anxious and
uneasy in Holland—They “know that They are but Pilgrims”—The
Projected Removal from the Low Countries—Their
“Weighty Reasons”—A Grand Germ of Thought—The New
World—Career of Maritime Discovery—The Pilgrim Council—The
Debate—The Argument of the Doubters—The Apostles
of the Future—Ho, for America—The Decision</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER IV.</p>

<p class="negin2">Pilgrim Prayers—“Where shall we plant our Colony”—“Large
Offers” of the Dutch—Determine to settle in “the most Northern
Part of Virginia”—The two English Emigration Companies—The
Envoys—Their Return—The Letter of Robinson
and Brewster—The Virginia Company and King James—Two
Questions—The “Formal Promise of Neglect”—The “Merchant-adventurers”-Terms
of the Compact—Republicanism
of the Pilgrims—Robinson’s Sermon—Who shall sail with the
“Forlorn Hope?”—The Past—Robinson’s Farewell—The
“Speedwell” and the “Mayflower”—“Good-by, Leyden”—“Adieu,
Friends”—The “Yo hoy” of the Seamen</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER V.</p>

<p class="negin2">At Southampton—The Abortive Departure—The Number of
<i lang="fr">Voyageurs</i> “winnowed”—Final Embarkation—The “Floating
Village”—On the Atlantic—Opening of Robinson’s Letter of
Advice—The Seaborn Government—All Hail, Democracy!—Carver
elected Governor—The Pilgrims propose to land—The
Captain’s Mistake—Geography of the Wilderness—The Unseaworthy
Shallop—The Sixteen Scouts—Miles Standish—On
Shore—First Drink of New England Water—The Mysterious
Mound—The Hidden Corn—Pilgrim Conscientiousness—Return
of the Explorers—In the Shallop—The Dawn of Winter—Renewed
Search for a Landing Spot—First Encounter with the
Indians—“<em>Woath wach haha hach woach</em>”—The Breakers—First
Christian Sabbath in the New World—<span class="smcap">Plymouth Rock</span></p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER VI.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Pilgrims decide to settle at Plymouth—The Landing—The
First Law—The Pioneers at Work—Plan of the Town—The
Weather—Satisfaction of the Pilgrims with the Site of their
Colony—The Journal—Pilgrim Traits—A Page from Cotton
Mather—The Frenchman’s Prophecy—Social Arrangements—Standish
chosen Captain—Births and Deaths—The Block-Citadel—Isolation
of the Pilgrims—Combination of Circumstances
which produced the Settlement of Plymouth in 1620</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER VII.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Early Spring of 1621—The Pilgrims Buoyant and Hopeful-Planting—In
the Woods—The Tyro Hunters—A Forest Adventure—The
Storm—On the Skirts of the Settlement—“Welcome,
Englishmen”—The Solitary Indian—His Entertainment—Samoset’s
Story—Valuable Information—The Kidnapper—<ins class="corr" id="tn-7" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'The Nansets'">
The Nausets</ins>—Pilgrim Description of Samoset—“What shall we do
with our Dusky Guest?”—Samoset’s Embassy—His Return—Squanto—His
Romantic History—Massasoit—The Redman and
the Pale-face—Negotiations—The Treaty—Its Faithful Observance—A
Picture of Massasoit—Billington’s Offence—The Lackey duelists—Death—Frightful
Mortality—Burial hill—Death of
Governor Carver—Bradford elected Governor—Departure of
the “Mayflower”—Feeling of the Pilgrims—The “Orphans of
Humanity”</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER VIII.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Pilgrim Panacea—The Summer—The Prospect—Wild Fowl,
Shell-fish, and Berries—A Glimpse at Plymouth in 1621—The
Pioneers open the Volume of Nature—Lessons in Woodcraft—Bradford
and the Deer-trap—Explorations—The Embassy to
Massasoit—Its Object—The Indian Guide—The Pause at Namasket—A
New “Kind of Bread”—The “Deserted Village”—The
Wigwam “Palace” of Massasoit—Presents—The Sachem
and the Horseman’s Coat—The “Pipe of Peace”—The Sagamore’s
Cordiality—Massasoit’s Housekeeping—A Full Bed—Indian
Games—The Feast—The Return—Honorable and Amicable
Treatment of the Indians by the Pilgrim Fathers—Advantages
of this Course—Barbarism makes an Obeisance to
Civilization—End of the Indian’s Lease of Ages of the Forest—The
New Tenant takes Possession in the Name of God and
Liberty</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER IX.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Lost Boy—The Searching Party—In the Shallop—The Water
spout—The Bivouac—Visitors at the Camp-fire—The Indian
Hag—Her Strange Emotion—The Riddle solved—<i lang="fr">En Route</i>
again—The Lost Boy found—His Adventures—A Startling Rumor—The
Hasty Return—Intrigues—The Narragansetts—Squanto,
Tokamahamon, and Habbamak—Corbitant’s Wiles—The
Runner’s News—Departure of Standish and his “Army”
of Fourteen Men—The Forest March—On the War-trail—The
Sleeping Village—The Bloodless Assault—“Friend, Friend”—Flight
of Corbitant—Safety of Squanto and Tokamahamon—Homeward—Good
Effect of the Bloodless Raid—Heroism and
Kindness of the Pilgrims—The Midnight Expedition of Miles
Standish—Boston Bay, and the River Charles—The “Harvest
Home”—“New England’s First Fruits”—Building at
Plymouth—The Variety of Game—The First <span class="smcap">Thanksgiving</span>—“Free
Range”</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER X.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Strange Sail—“Is it a Frenchman, or a Buccaneer?”—Warlike
Preparations—The English Jack—Joy of the Pilgrims—Arrival
of the “Fortune”—News from Home—The Reinforcement—A
Moment of Sadness—The Letter Budget—The London
Company under a Cloud—Course of the King—A Technical
Difficulty—The New Patent—Weston’s Complaint and Bradford’s
Reply—Departure of the “Fortune”—Cushman’s Sermon—The
Bane of Plantations—Winslow’s Letter Home—Hilton’s
Missive—Social Life and Wants of the Pilgrim Fathers—The
“Fortune’s” Mishap</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XI.</p>

<p class="negin2">Provisions for the New-comers—Danger of Famine—Hardships—Patient
Spirit of the Pilgrims—Brewster’s Submission—<em>Morale</em>
of the Colony—Some “Lewd Fellows of the Baser Sort” get
“shuffled” into the “Mayflower’s” Company—Character of the
Recent Reinforcement—Bradford’s Government—The Laws—Bradford
and the “Tender Consciences”—The Controlling
Element—Homogeneity</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XII.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Salient Features of the Colonial Government—The “Proper
Democracy”—The Course of England—The Governor—The
Council—The Legislative Body—Test of Citizenship—Reasons<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span>
and Excuses for It—Early Decrees—The Jury Trial—First
Laws—The Digest—Provision for Education—The Old Statute
Book of the Colony—Unique Legislation—First Marriage in
New England—Marriage a Civil Contract</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XIII.</p>

<p class="negin2">Second Winter in the Wilderness—Faith as a Motor—Anxiety—The
Indian and the Package—A Prisoner—The Riddle Solved—The
Mysterious Rattlesnake Skin—Defensive Measures—First
“General Muster” in New England—The Expedition and the
Alarm—Habbamak’s Confidence—The Squaw-scout—No Danger—The
Expedition resumed—Squanto’s Freaks—The Boast
of a Travelled Indian—The Buried Plague—The Cheat uncloaked—Hunger—The
Boat and the Letter-bag—Cold Comfort—Dissensions
among the Merchant-adventurers in London—Bradford’s
Comments</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XIV.</p>

<p class="negin2">Arrival of the “Charity” and the “Swan”—The News—Weston’s
Desertion—The Situation in England—In a Quandary—The
Pilgrims entertain Weston’s Rival Colony—Word brought of a
Massacre in Virginia—Winslow’s Mission to the Coast of
Maine—The Double Benefit—<em>Morale</em> of the Westonians—They
finally settle at Wessagusset—Their Lazy Mismanagement—Bradford’s
Rebuke—The Forayers—Bradford’s Walk of Fifty
Miles—Death of Squanto—The Lean Harvest—The English
Trading Ship—Progress in Building at Plymouth—How the
Pilgrims went to Church</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XV.</p>

<p class="negin2">Affairs at Wessagusset—Expostulations and Appeals of the Pilgrims—An
Anecdote—Reported Sickness of Massasoit—Pilgrim
Embassy to visit Him—On the Way—The Death Song—Corbitant’s
Lodge—At Massasoit’s Wigwam—The Pow-wows—Winslow
and the Sachem—The Cure—Massasoit discloses a Conspiracy—The
Return—The Envoys and Corbitant—A Shrewd
Sagamore—How the Pilgrims communicated Religious Truth—Deliberation
at Plymouth—A Frightened Messenger from Wessagusset—The
Expedition of Miles Standish—Standish and
the Westonians—Sad Condition of that Colony—The Plot disclosed—Indian
Braggadocio—The Two Knives—The Little
Man and the Big Man—Patience of Standish—The Death-grapple—Habbamak’s
Comment—The Skirmish—The “Capital
Exploit” of Miles Standish—The Westonians abandon Wessagusset—End<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span>
of a Colony whose “Main End was to catch
Fish”—Wetawamat’s Head—A Liberation—News of the Baffled
Conspiracy reaches Leyden—Robinson’s Fine Comment—Strength
and Weakness</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XVI.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Mysterious Blacksmith—Weston at Plymouth—A Favor—Ingratitude—Continued
Famine at Plymouth—The Community
of Interest—How it worked—Its Partial Abandonment—Facts
brain Plato’s Theory—Bradford’s Argument against the
Communal Idea—The Pilgrims rest on Providence—Their Shifts
to live—The Drought—The Fast—The Answered Prayer—Rain
at last—Habbamak’s Remarks—Five Kernels of Corn—A
Package of Home Letters—Pierce’s Patent—He “vomits it
up”—Captain Francis West—New Recruits—The “Annie”
and the “Little James”—Feeling among the New-comers—Cushman’s
Epistle—A Prescient Scribe</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XVII.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Lading of the “Anne”—Winslow departs for England—Plenty
once more—Social Arrangements—Robert Gorges—Birth
and Death of Another Colony at Wessagusset—Morrel’s
Latin Poem—Prosperity of Plymouth—An Election—The
Mishaps of a Fishing Expedition—Preparations for Planting—Winslow’s
Return—What he brought—The Purpose and <em>Animus</em>
of the London Company of Merchant-adventurers—John
Lyford—Circumstances of his Advent—John Oldham—The
Pernicious League—Onslaught upon the Pilgrim Government—Wolves
in the Sheepfold—The Intercepted Letters—An Explosion—Oldham
“tamed”—Lyford’s Trial—The Sentence—Winslow’s
<i lang="fr">Exposé</i> in England and America—Running the
Gauntlet—Banishment of Lyford and Oldham—Effect of the
Lyford Troubles—Brewster’s Ministry—An Exception to the
Indian Doctrine of “Poor Pay, Poor Preach”—Tenets of the
Plymouth Church—“Brown Bread and the Gospel is Good
fare”—Liberty</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XVIII.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Pilgrims initiate Measures to buy out the Merchant-adventurers—Standish
sails for England on this Errand—His Narrow
Escape from Capture by a Turkish Rover—His Partial
Success and Return—Sad News—Death of Cushman in England—Death
of Robinson at Leyden—Last Hours and Character
of the Moses of the Pilgrims</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XIX.</p>

<p class="negin2">Progress of Population at Plymouth—Smith’s Report—A Leaf from
Bradford’s Journal—Romulus and Rome; Plymouth and the
Pilgrims—The Winter of 1626-7—Allerton’s Embassy to England—His
Success—The “Undertakers”—The New Organization—Plan
of Division—Habbamak’s Grant—First Coveted
Luxury of the Emancipated Colony—Allerton’s Second Mission—Provision
made for the Transportation of the Remainder
of the Leyden Congregation—Patent for Land on the Kennebec—The
New Trading Station—A Crazy Clergyman—Catholicity
of the Plymouth Church—Wide Range of the Pilgrim
Enterprise—Commerce opened with the Dutch at New Amsterdam—Isaac
de Rasières at Plymouth—Wampum—The Pilgrim
Settlement as seen through the Eyes of a Dutchman—Joyous
Arrival of the Leyden Exiles—How They were received—Mount
Wollaston—Thomas Morton turns it into a Den of Riot and
Debauchery—Grief of the Pilgrims—Expostulation—Affront—End
of an <i lang="la">Experimentum Crucis</i> of Immorality—The Pilgrims
find “All Things working together for their Good”</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XX.</p>

<p class="negin2">English Politics—The Puritans and the Pilgrims—Multitudes in
Britain prepare for Emigration—Roger Conant—Old John
White of Dorchester—The <i lang="fr">Point d’Appui</i>—White’s Message—Conant’s
Determination—Agitation at London—A New Scheme
for Puritan Emigration—It is patronized by Men of Substance
and “Gentlemen born”—The Lock opened by the Silver
Key—A Patent—John Endicott leads a Colony into New England—Salem
settled—The English Hermit—Individuality of
the Saxon Race—The Explorers colonize Charlestown—News
of Endicott’s Success in England—Incorporation of the Massachusetts
Company—Its Powers—An Old Legend</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXI.</p>

<p class="negin2">Organization of the Massachusetts Company—A Unique Letter of
Instruction to Endicott—The Soil ordered to be purchased
of the Indian Owners—A Blast against Tobacco—The Colonial
Seal—Preparations for the Embarkation of Fresh Emigrants—Buckingham—Strafford—Laud—Puritans
Eager to Emigrate—The
Flotilla—The Plentiful Provision of “Godly Ministers”—Bright—Smith—Higginson—Skelton—“Farewell,
Dear England”—Britain
does not know her Heroes—The Landing at
Salem—Higginson’s Impressions—The Pilgrims plant a Church
at Salem—Cordial Relations opened with the Plymouth Colonists—Endicott’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span>
Letter to Bradford—An Additional Link in
the Chain of Friendship—Ordination of Higginson and Skelton—The
Ceremony—Bradford’s Tardy Arrival—The Confession
of Faith—Birth of the Theocracy—Dissatisfaction of the
Church of England men at Salem—The Brothers Brown—Breach
of the Peace imminent—Endicott sends the Browns
home to England—Endicott cautioned by the Massachusetts
Company</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXII.</p>

<p class="negin2">The New Colony outstrips Plymouth—Intense Interest in the
Colonies felt in England—Higginson’s Tract—Men of Wealth
and Position prepare to emigrate—One Thing makes Them
Hesitate—Character of the Charter—The “Open Sesame”—Alienation
of the Government of the Company—A Daring Construction
changes a Trading Corporation into a Provincial
Government—Joy of the Would-be Emigrants—The Election—An
Extensive Emigration set Afoot—The Fleet of Ten Vessels—In
the Cabin of the “Arbella”—Winthrop—Dudley—Humphrey—Johnson—Saltonstall—Eaton—Bradstreet—Vassall—The
Women of the Enterprise—The Lady Arbella Johnson—The
Farewell at Yarmouth—On the Atlantic</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXIII.</p>

<p class="negin2">“Land ho!”—The Supper at Salem—Sickness—Explorations—The
Settlement at Cambridge—Busy Days—Death—The Last
Hours of Francis Higginson—Death of Arbella Johnson—Grief
and Death of her Husband—The Mortality List—Cambridge
partially Deserted—Settlement of Boston—The Original Occupant
of Shawmut Peninsula—Blackstone’s Oddities—The
“Lord-Bishops” and the “Lord-Brethren”—Activity of the
Colonists—The View from Beacon Hill—Winthrop’s Cheery
Letter to his Wife</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXIV.</p>

<p class="negin2">Fundamental Law of the Colonies of Massachusetts Bay—Earliest
Legislation—First General Assembly—The Democratic Tendency—The
Test of Citizenship—Reflections—Animadversions
on the Theocratic Plan—The Acorn and the Oak</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXV.</p>

<p class="negin2">Life in the Wilderness—Winthrop’s Adventure—The False Alarm—The
Settlers and the Wolves well frightened—The Courtship
of Miles Standish—Alden’s Wedding—Morton once more at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span>
“Merry-Mount”—An Execution—Radcliff, and his Punishment—The
Mysterious Stranger—A Knight of the Holy Sepulchre
astray in the Wilderness—The Three Wives—The Pursuit—An
Unmasked Jesuit—The “Italian Method” tabooed in
New England—Satan’s Ill-manners—Utopia—A Sentence from
Demosthenes—Great Combat between a Mouse and a Snake—Its
Significance—Fresh Arrivals—Eliot—Roger Williams-Attachment
of the Pilgrims to their Rocky Refuge—How New
England looked to a Puritan—How it looked to a Churchman—A
Difference of Standpoint—The Brood of <em>Townlets</em>—The
Western Wilds no longer Tenantless</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_299">299</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXVI.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Advance of Civilization—Growth of Plymouth—Ralph Smith—Winthrop
visits Bradford—Gubernatorial Civilities in the Olden
Time—Leaves from Winthrop’s Note-book—The Primitive
Ferry-boat—Bradford’s Mare—The Empty Contribution-box—Boundary
Quarrel with the French—The Compliments of the
Gentlemen from the Isle of Rhé—How They were answered—The
Valley of the Connecticut—Efforts to colonize those Bottom
Lands—Bradford solicits Winthrop to organize a United
Effort for that Purpose—The Sachem’s Offer—Winthrop’s
Refusal—The Plymouth Pilgrims determine to enter Connecticut
unassisted—The Dutch attempt to balk Them—The Pilgrims
colonize Windsor—A few Dutch Oaths—A War-path which
ended in a Hug—An Infectious Fever at Plymouth—Consequent
Mortality—Some “Strange Flies”—Ebb and Flow of
the Tide of Emigration—Attempted Emigration of Hazlerigge,
Pym, Hampden, and Cromwell—They are stopped by an Order in
Council—The King’s <i lang="fr">Faux Pas</i>—Three Famous Men embark
for New England, and supply The Great Necessities of
the Colonists—Haynes—Cotton—Hooker—Title by which the
Settlers hold their Lands—Progress towards Democracy—Cotton’s
Sermon against Rotation in Office—Its Non-effect—Colonial
Authority divided between Two Branches—Law against
Arbitrary Taxation—Representative Republicanism—A Dream
broken</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_314">314</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXVII.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Pilgrim Fathers and the Mosaic Code—Toleration in the
Seventeenth Century—American and European Thinkers alike
reject it—Arrival of Roger Williams at Boston—His Motives
for Emigration—His Hopes and Views—Speedily attracts Attention—His<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span>
Devotion to the Principle of Toleration—His
Advocacy of it places Him in Direct Opposition to the System
on which Massachusetts is founded—Under the Frown of the
Authorities—Williams refuses to join the Boston Church—His
Declaration—Statement of his Idea of Toleration—The Pilgrims
regard Him as a Dangerous Heresiarch with “a Windmill in
his Head”—Consternation at Boston on the Rumor of Williams’
Instalment in the Place of Higginson at Salem—Winthrop’s
Letter of Expostulation—The Salem Church does not heed it—Williams
begins to preach—Quits Salem for Plymouth—Bradford’s
Estimate of the Young Welchman—Williams cements a
Lasting and Cordial Friendship with the Indians—Returns to
Salem on Skelton’s Death—Recommencement of his Struggle
with the Colonial Government—His Pamphlet on the Charter—His
Retraction—Ought Women to appear Veiled at Church?—Williams
says Yes, Cotton says No—Cotton convinces the
Ladies—The English Commission for the Regulation of the
Colonies—The Pilgrims decide to “avoid and protract”—Endicott
cuts the Cross out of the English Flag—Williams speaks
against the “Freeman’s Oath”—Trouble—Williams’ Democracy—Points
of Variance between the Reformer and the
Colonists—The Citation—Williams before the Court—His
Frank Defence—Banishment—The Flight through the Winter
Woods—Animadversions—Months of Vicissitude—Settlement
of Providence—Williams bases his Colony on Toleration and
Democracy—Mather’s Epigram—Williams makes a Distinction
between Toleration and License—Williams’ First Visit to
England—Intimacy with Vane and Milton—The Second Visit—Cromwell
and Marvell added to his List of Trans-atlantic
Friends—Elected on his Return President of the Providence
Plantations—Excelsior—Williams and the Indians—An Incident—Reflections
on the Work and Character of Roger Williams</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_334">334</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXVIII.</p>

<p class="negin2">Progress of New England in Material Prosperity—Arrival of Three
Thousand Settlers in a Single Year—An Illustrious <em>Trio</em>—Hugh
Peters—The Younger Winthrop—Sir Harry Vane—A
Long Smouldering Feud placated—Value which the Pilgrims
set on Education—Good and Bad Universities—A Public
School planted at Cambridge—Harvard College—Relations
between Learning and Manners—Enlarged Colonization of New
England—The Plymouth Pilgrims at Windsor—The Younger
Winthrop at Saybrook—Hooker’s Parishioners at Cambridge—Petition
for “Enlargement or Removal”—The Advance Guard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span>
of Civilization—The New Hesperia of Puritanism—Hooker and
Haynes lead a Colony into Connecticut and settle at Hartford—Pilgrimage
from the Sea-shore to the “Delightful Banks”
of the Inland River—Liberality of the New-born Colony—New
Haven planted by English Puritans—Colonization of Guilford,
Milford, and Long Island—Character of these Settlers—Commerce
and Agriculture as the Basis of New States—Constitution
of New Haven—The First Political Paper ever cradled in a
Manger—The Connecticut Colonists and the Dutch at New
Amsterdam quarrel over their Boundary Line—A Yankee
<em>Rûse</em>—The Dutchmen and the Onion Rows—Isolation of the
New Settlements—The War-whoop</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_357">357</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXIX.</p>

<p class="negin2">The Pilgrims and the Indians—Stern Justice with which the
Forefathers treated the Aborigines—An Illustration—Murder
in the Woods—Its Punishment—End of the Epoch of Peace—Reason
Why—The Pequods—Uncas—The Pequod Embassy to
the Narragansetts—The Forests pregnant with Insurrection—Vane
solicits the Intervention of Roger Williams—The Solitary
Canoe—Williams in the Wigwam of Miantonomoh—The Pequod
Diplomats at Work—Williams pushes his Dangerous Opposition—Old
Friendship prevails—The Narragansetts refuse to
dig up the Hatchet—The Pequods take the War-path alone—Sassacus—First
Patter of the Coming Storm—A Thrilling
Scene on the Connecticut River—The Captured Pinnace—Border
Gallantry—A Unique Naval Battle—How News travelled
in the Olden Time—Endicott on the Trail—A Pilgrim Friar
Tuck—Failure—Pandemonium—New England trembles on
the Verge of Death—Energy of the Colonists—Mason’s Expedition—The
Council of War—The Chaplain’s Prayer—Off
Point Judith—The Landing—The Seaside Bivouac—The Midnight
March—The Pequod Village—A “Sound of Revelry by
Night”—The Indian Fort—The Night Attack—Scenes of
Horror—The Flight of Sassacus—The Pursuit—The Swamp
Battle—The Sagamore’s Escape—The Gory Scalp-lock—“Sachem’s
Head”—Death, and Servitude of the Survivors—Civilization
Victorious</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_370">370</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXX.</p>

<p class="negin2">Pilgrim Exclusiveness—The Old Alien Law—Dissenters swarm
into Massachusetts Bay—Agitation—The Two Parties—Anne
Hutchinson—A Commendable Practice—Mrs. Hutchinson’s
Week-day Lectures—The “Covenant of Works” and the “Covenant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span>
of Grace”—Heady Current of Dissension—Horror of the
Pilgrims—Antinomianism—Familism—The Female Heresiarch—The
“Legalists”—Mutual Exasperation—Vane’s Disgust—Wreck
of Vane’s Administration—Winthrop’s Law—Vane’s
Reply—The Founders of the Colony regain their Influence—Trial
of Anne Hutchinson—Cotton and his <i lang="fr">Protégé</i>—“Immediate
Revelations”—Banishment of the Antinomians—Roger
Williams welcomes the Exiles to Providence—Purchase
and Settlement of Rhode Island—A Happy Result from an
Unhappy Cause</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_388">388</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXXI.</p>

<p class="negin2">Law as the Reflection of National Character—Pilgrim Legislation—The
Homes of New England—Origin of Towns—Town
Meetings—Duty of voting—“Prudential Men”—An Odd Trait—Pilgrims
fined for refusing to hold Office—High Character of the
Early Governors—Bradford—Edward Winslow and Thomas
Prince—Winthrop—Dudley—Vane—Endicott—Other Pivotal
Men—God’s Benediction on New England</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_400">400</a></p>


<p class="p2 center lsp">CHAPTER XXXII.</p>

<p class="negin2">New England in 1641—Inhabitants—Villages—Churches—Houses—Agriculture—Commerce—Trade—Manufactures—Foreign
Influence of the Pilgrims—The Tone of New England
in treating with the Long Parliament during the Civil War—Two
Rejected Invitations—Consolidation of Colonial Liberty—The
Oppressed made Guests of the Commonwealth—The Germ
of Union—The <span class="smcap">United Colonies of New England</span>—Character
of the League—Reflections—Colonial Union the Crowning
Service of the Pilgrim Fathers to Humanity—The Second
Generation—The Work and the Lesson of the Pilgrim Fathers</p>

<p class="rt"><a href="#Page_415">415</a></p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span></p>

<p class="p2 pfs90">THE</p>
<p class="p1 pfs180 lsp2">PILGRIM FATHERS</p>
<p class="p2 pfs70">OF</p>
<p class="p1 pfs150 lsp2">NEW ENGLAND.</p>

<hr class="r20">

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE EXODUS.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Nothing is here for tears; nothing to wail</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Dispraise or blame; nothing but well and fair.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent20"><span class="smcap">Milton</span>, <cite>Samson Agonistes</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p class="p1">The influence of that mysterious triad, the
gold eagle, the silver dollar, and the copper cent,
has been overestimated. Spiritual forces are more
potent than the motors of materialism. The Sermon
on the Mount outweighs the law of gravity.
Ethics make safer builders than stocks. Two hundred
years ago, commercial enterprise essayed to
subdue the New World in the interest of greedy
trade, hungering for an increase; but though officered
by the brightest genius and the highest daring
of the age, backed by court favor and bottomed on
the deepest bank-vaults of London, the effort failed.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span></p>

<p>Where physical forces balked, a moral sentiment
bore off a trophy. The most prosperous of the
American colonies were planted by religion. New
England is the child of English Puritanism; and
yet, paradoxical as it may seem, antedates its birth.
Men say that the history of New England dates
from 1620. ’Tis a mistake. New England was in
the brain of Wickliffe when, in the infancy of Britain,
he uttered his first protest against priestcraft
and pronounced the Christianity of Rome a juggle.
New England, <i lang="la">in esse</i>, was born in that chill December
on Plymouth Rock; New England, <i lang="la">in posse</i>, was
cradled in the pages of the first printed copy of
the English Bible.</p>

<p>Soil does not make a state; nor does geographical
position. That spot of ground which men call
Athens does not embrace the immortal city. It
bears up its masonry; but the Athens of Socrates
and of Plato exists in the <em>mind</em> of every scholar.
The intellectual and moral elements which enter
into and shape it, these are the real state. In this
sense, New England was in the pages of the Puritan
publicists, in the psalms of the Lollards, and in
the prayers of Bradwardine, centuries before that
winter’s voyage into the dreary wilderness.</p>

<p>Society, government, law, the graces of civility,
the economic formulas, are growths. “Books,
schools, education,” says Humboldt, “are the scaffolding
by means of which God builds up the human
soul.” There are no isolated facts. Events do not
occur at hap-hazard. Each effect has its cause; it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span>
may lie buried beneath many blinding strata, so
that it must be dug for, but it exists.</p>

<p>Puritanism was not a sudden creation. It did
not crop out of the sixteenth century unexpectedly,
and begin to impeach formalism without a cause.
It was a growth. “It was as old as the truth and
manliness of England. Among the thoughtful and
earnest islanders, the dramatic religion of the popes
had never struck so deep root as in continental
soil.”<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Chafed and weary, the people had long
demanded a purer and more spiritual faith. The
strong repressive hand of the Vatican was not able
to stop the mouth of unwearied complaint. Thinkers
were convinced that Rome had paganized Christianity.
Christ was banished from all active influence.
He could only be reached and “touched
with the feeling of our infirmities” through the
intercession of saints, who were constantly invoked.
The popes professed to possess a fund of supererogation,
which they might dispense at will; and this
became their stock in trade. Salvation by meritorious
works was preached. Brokers in souls hawked
their celestial wares in every market-place. Rome,
an incarnate Pharisee, made broad its phylactery,
and hid beneath it a dead religion and a corrupt
church.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>

<p>From Wickliffe to Tyndale, a few earnest, devout
men had impeached this cheat. But the influence<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span>
of these teachers was at best but local. They
were barely able to keep the gospel torch aglow,
and to pass it down from hand to hand through
the dusky centuries. The masses were affrighted
from the pursuit of knowledge by the jingle of the
rusty and forged keys of St. Peter, which locked
the storehouse of divine revelation, and barred the
investigations of the human mind.</p>

<p>The modern era dawned in the sixteenth century.
The invention of printing was the <i lang="fr">avant courier</i>
of reform. The reformers gained a fulcrum for
their lever. Scholars might shake the dust from
their mouldy folios, and by opening the early records,
convict Rome of heresy. Their conclusions
might then be scattered broadcast on the wings of
the press. Well might the perturbed ghost of Latin
Orthodoxy exclaim,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Ah, fatal age, which gave mankind</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">A Luther and a Faustus.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>Bibles were everywhere opened. Reform swept
from the mountains of Bohemia into Germany;
crossing the Saxon plains, it entered the Netherlands;
thence it passed the channel into England.
In the island it was received with enthusiasm. The
government, from personal motives, extended to it
the hand of fellowship; the people adopted it, because
they felt the inadequacy of Romanism to
meet their religious wants.<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p>

<p>Rome did not strike its flag without a struggle.
As Demetrius was shocked when Paul, a wandering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span>
preacher from Tarsus, impeached his Diana, so the
Vatican professed to be horrified when the reformers
inveighed against the popedom. “Socrates”—so
runs the old Grecian indictment—“is guilty of
crime for not worshipping the gods whom the city
worship, but introducing new divinities of his own.”<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a>
The adherents of the ancient faith tacked a similar
indictment upon the front of the reform. Where they
dared, they invoked the thumb-screw and kindled an
<i lang="pt">auto da fé</i>. When they could not fight with these
congenial weapons, they made faces at their opponents,
and hurled epithets. The iconoclasts were
called “infidels.” Hooker and Hales, Stillingfleet,
and Cudworth, and Taylor were thus stigmatized.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>
And indeed, “this is a cry which the timid, the ignorant,
the indolent, and the venal are apt to raise
against those who, faithful to themselves, go boldly
forward, using the past only to show them what the
present is, and what the future should be.”</p>

<p>These men recast the ecclesiasticism of their
age. The essence of Romanism was extracted from
their creed, but many of its forms were retained.
Then, within the new-built temple of the English
church, there arose two parties. The <em>Puritans</em>
demanded the complete divorce of the reformed
church from Rome, in its ceremonies and in its
belief. They strove to inaugurate the purity and
simplicity of what they conceived to be the primitive
worship. They esteemed the retained forms<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span>
to be pregnant with mischief, in that they were the
badges of their former servitude, and because they
tended to bridge over the chasm between Rome
and the Reformation.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p>

<p>At the outset, the Puritans did not quarrel with
the English Establishment; they all claimed to
be within its pale,<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> and many of their leaders
were men of high ecclesiastical standing, of the
truest lives, and of the loftiest genius; but they
held to the spirit rather than to the letter; to the
substance of the church, not to its forms.<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p>

<p>The <em>Conformists</em> considered the ceremonies to
be non-essential; but they desired to retain them,
partly because they were enamoured of those old
associations which they symbolized, but chiefly because
they dreaded the effect of too sudden and
radical a change upon the peace of the island. Besides,
to facilitate the passage from Romanism to
the reformed church, they were willing to step to
the verge of their consciences in the retention of
the old forms, and in the incorporation of those
features of the ancient faith into the outward structure
of the new theology which were not intrinsically
bad.<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span></p>

<p>Unquestionably honest minds might differ in
this policy. “But certainly the doctrine of the
Puritans concerning the connection and mutual
influence between forms and opinions, so far from
being fanciful or fastidious, had foundations as
deep as any thing in moral truth or in human nature.
A sentiment determined their course; but it
was more cogent than all the learned argument
which they lavished in its defence. A man of honor
will not be bribed to display himself in a fool’s cap;
yet why not in a fool’s cap as readily as in any apparel
associated in his mind, and in the minds of
those whom he respects, whether correctly or not is
immaterial, with the shame of mummery and falsehood?
To these men the cope and surplice seemed
the livery of Rome. They would not put on the
uniform of that hated power, while they were marshalling
an array of battle against its ranks. An
officer, French, American, or English, would feel
outraged by a proposal to be seen in the garb of a
foreign service. The respective wearers of the white
and tricolor cockades would be more willing to receive
each other’s swords into their bosoms than to
exchange their decorations. A national flag is a
few square yards of coarse bunting; but associations
invest it which touch whatever is strongest
and deepest in national character. Its presence
commands an homage as reverential as that which
salutes an Indian idol. Torrents of blood have
been poured out age after age to save it from affront.
The rejection of the cope and mitre was as much<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span>
the fruit and the sign of the great reality of a religious
revolution, as a political revolution was betokened
and effected when the cross of St. George
came down from over the fortresses along fifteen
degrees of the North American coast”<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> in ’76.</p>

<p>The contest which ensued between nascent Puritanism
and the entrenched Conformists was prolonged
and bitter. It deeply scarred the history of
the contemporaneous actors; and it has shaped the
ethics and the politics of two centuries; nor is its
force yet spent. Indeed, it may be fitly called the
epic of our Saxon annals.</p>

<p>“On the one side, in the outset, were statesmen
desiring first and mainly the order and quiet of the
realm. On the other side were religious men desiring
that, at all hazards, God might be worshipped
in purity and served with simplicity and zeal. It
is easy to understand the perplexities and alarms
of the former class; but the persistency of their
opponents is not therefore to be accounted whimsical
and perverse. It is impossible to blame them
for saying, ‘If a man believes marriage to be a sacrament
in the sense of the popes and the councils,
let him symbolize it by the giving of a ring; if he
believes in exorcism by the signing of the cross, let
him have it impressed on his infant’s brow in baptism;
if he believes the bread of the Eucharist to
be God, let him go down on his knees before it.
But we do not believe these things, and as honest
men we will not profess so to believe by act or sign<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span>
any more than by word.’ Theirs was no struggle
against the church, but against the state’s control
over it.”<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p>

<p>The fatal error of the church-and-state reformers
was, that they strove to coerce unwilling consciences
into exact conformity with a prescribed
formula of worship by penal legislation. No latitude
was even winked at. It was a new edition of
the old story of Procrustes and his iron bed. Britain,
emancipated from the pope, still hugged the
<em>popedom</em>. The rulers of the island clutched the
weapons and enacted the <i lang="fr">rôle</i> of the Hildebrandes,
the Gregorys, and the Innocents of ecclesiastical
history. Dissent was “rank heresy.” Liberty was
“license.” The measure of a conscience was the
length of a prelate’s foot.</p>

<p>“An act was passed in 1593,” says Hoyt, “for
punishing all who refused to attend the Established
Church, or frequented conventicles or unauthorized
assemblies. The penalty was, imprisonment until
the convicted person made declaration of his conformity;
and if that was not done within three
months after arrest, he was to quit the realm, and
go into perpetual banishment. In case he did not
depart within the specified time, or returned without
license, he was to suffer death.”<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p>

<p>In 1603, when James I. came down from Scotland
to ascend the English throne, so stood the law.
Nor did it rest idle in the statute-book. The parchment<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span>
<em>fiat</em> was instinct with vicious life. Hecatombs
of victims suffered under it.<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> “Toleration,” remarks
Goodrich, “was a virtue then unknown on
British ground. In exile alone was security found
from the pains and penalties of non-conformity to
the Church of England.”<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p>

<p>During the pendency of the dissension between
the Puritans and the Conformists within the bosom
of the church, many honest thinkers, feeling hopeless
of success in that unequal conflict, broke from
their old communion, and set up a separate Ebenezer.<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a>
Even so early as 1592, Sir Walter Raleigh,
speaking in the House of Commons, affirmed that
these “Come-outers” numbered upwards of twenty
thousand.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> Since that date, every year had added
new recruits to their ranks, until, in 1603, they had
expanded into a wealthy, influential, and puissant
party in the state.<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p>

<p>Though socially tabooed and politically ostracised—though
shackled by fierce prohibitory legislation
and by governmental ill-will, the Separatists,
as they were called, still prayed and hoped, walking
through persecution with faith in their right hand
and with patience in their left. At one time they
thought they could discern a ray of light on the
sullen horizon which gloomed upon them. James<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span>
I. had been educated in Presbyterian Scotland.<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a>
He had often hymned the praises of the polity of
stout John Knox.<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> When he crossed the Tweed,
jubilant Puritanism cried, “Amen,” and “All hail.”
Ere long, however, the weak and treacherous Stuart
deserted his Scottish creed. From that moment he
hated his old comrades with the peculiar bitterness
of an apostate. No epithet was vile enough by
which to paint them. He raked the gutter of the
English language for phrases. “These Puritans,”
said he, “are pests in the church and commonwealth—greater
liars and perjurers than any border
thieves.”<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></p>

<p>At the Hampton Court Conference—an intellectual
tournament between the representatives of
the opposing religious parties—the royal buffoon
affirmed his determination to make the Puritans
“conform, or harry them out of the land, or else
worse.”<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></p>

<p>It has been truly said that “the friends of religious
reform had never seen so hopeless a time as
that which succeeded the period of the most sanguine
expectation. In the gloomiest periods of the
arbitrary sway of the two daughters of Henry VIII.,
they could turn their eyes to a probable successor
to the throne who would be capable of more reason
or more lenity. Now nothing better for them appeared<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span>
in the future than the long reign of a prince
wrong-headed and positive alike from imbecility,
prejudice, pique, and self-conceit, to be succeeded
by a dynasty born to the inheritance of the same
bad blood, and educated in the same pernicious
school. It is true that, as history reveals the fact
to our age, almost with the reign of the Scottish
alien that nobler spirit began to animate the House
of Commons which ultimately” checkmated tyranny
beneath the scaffold of Charles I. But this astounding
blow was then remote. “As yet the steady
reaction from old abuses was but dimly apparent,
even to the most clear-sighted and hopeful minds;
and numbers of devout and brave hearts gave way
to the conviction that, for such as they, England
had ceased for ever to be a habitable spot.”<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p>

<p>Towards the close of Elizabeth’s reign, a number
of yeomen in the North of England, some in
Nottinghamshire, some in Lincolnshire, some in
Yorkshire, and the neighborhood of these counties,
“whose hearts the Lord had touched with heavenly
zeal for his truth,” separated from the English
church, “and as the Lord’s free people joined themselves,
by a covenant of the Lord, into a church
estate in the fellowship of the gospel, to walk in all
his ways made known or to be made known unto
them, according to their best endeavors, whatsoever
it should cost, the Lord assisting them.”<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p>

<p>The Protestant world was at this time divided<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span>
between two regal phases of reform. “Luther’s
<em>rationale</em>,” says Bancroft, “was based upon the sublime
but simple truth which lies at the bottom of
morals, the paramount value of character and purity
of conscience; the superiority of right dispositions
over ceremonial exactness; and, as he expressed
it, ‘justification by faith alone.’ But he
hesitated to deny the real presence, and was indifferent
to the observance of external ceremonies.
Calvin, with sterner dialectics, sanctioned by his
power as the ablest writer of his age, attacked the
Roman doctrines respecting the communion, and
esteemed as a commemoration the rite which the
papists reverenced as a sacrifice. Luther acknowledged
princes as his protectors, and in the ceremonies
of worship favored magnificence as an aid to
devotion; Calvin was the guide of Swiss republics,
and avoided in their churches all appeals to the
senses as crimes against religion. Luther resisted
the Roman church for its immorality; Calvin for its
idolatry. Luther exposed the folly of superstition,
ridiculed the hair-shirt and the scourge, the purchased
indulgence, and the dearly-bought masses
for the dead; Calvin shrunk from their criminality
with impatient horror. Luther permitted the cross,
the taper, pictures, images, as things of indifference;
Calvin demanded a spiritual worship in its utmost
purity.”<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></p>

<p>The Separatists were ardent Calvinists. They
esteemed the “offices and callings, courts and canons”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span>
of the English church “monuments of idolatry.”
Those of the North of England, though
“presently they were scoffed and scorned by the
profane multitude, and their ministers urged with
the yoke of subscription,” yet held “that the lordly
power of the prelates ought not to be submitted to.”<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></p>

<p>In this northern church was “Mr. Richard Clifton,
a grave and revered preacher, who by his pains
and diligence had done much good, and under God
had been the means of the conversion of many;
also that famous and worthy man, Mr. John Robinson,
who afterwards was their pastor for many
years, till God called him away by death; and Mr.
William Brewster, a reverent man, who afterwards
was chosen elder of the church, and lived with them
till old age.”<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></p>

<p>In the year 1607 these reformers seem to have
received the vindictive attention of the government,
for Bradford makes this record: “After that they
could not long continue in any peaceable condition,
but were hunted and persecuted on every side.
Some were taken and clapped up in prison. Others
had their houses beset and watched night and day.
The most were fain to fly and leave their houses
and goods, and the means of their livelihood. Yet
these things, and many more still sharper, which
afterwards befell them, were no other than they
looked for, and therefore they were better able to
bear them by the assistance of God’s grace and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span>
spirit. Nevertheless, seeing themselves thus molested,
and that there was no hope of peace at home,
by joint consent they resolved to go into the Low
Countries, where, they heard, was freedom for all
men; as also how sundry from London and various
parts had been persecuted into exile aforetime, and
were gone thither, sojourning at Amsterdam and in
other cities. So, after they had continued together
about a year, and kept their meetings every sabbath
in one place and another, exercising the worship
of God despite the diligence and malice of their
adversaries, seeing that they could no longer continue
in that condition, they prepared to pass over
into Holland as they could.”<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims were preëminently men of action.
They were not dreamy speculators; they were not
<em>dilettanti</em> idealists. They never let “I dare not” wait
upon “I would.” With them decision was imperative,
and meant action. They had dropped two
words from their vocabulary—doubt and hesitation.
Instantly they prepared for exile; and they
accepted it as serenely when conscience beckoned
that way with her imperious finger, as their descendants
would an invitation to attend a halcyon gala.</p>

<p>Still, in the very outset they met obstacles which
would have unnerved less resolute men. But the
heart of their purpose was not to be broken. In
1607,<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> the Pilgrims made an effort to quit the shores<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span>
of this inhospitable country. They had appointed
Boston, in Lincolnshire, the rendezvous, and a contract
had been made with an English captain to
convey their persons and their goods to Amsterdam.
The Pilgrims were punctual; the seaman was not.
Finally, however, he appeared. The eager fugitives
were shipped; but they were taken aboard only to
be betrayed. The recreant master had plotted with
the authorities to entrap the victims. The unhappy
Pilgrims were taken ashore again in open boats,
and there the officers “rifled and ransacked them,
searching them to their shirts for money.”<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> Even
the women were treated with rude immodesty.<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a>
After this thievish official raid, they were “carried
back into the town and made a spectacle and wonder
to the multitude, which came flocking on all
sides to behold them. Being thus first, by the catchpole
officers, rifled and stripped of their money,
books, and much other goods, they were presented
to the magistrates, and messengers were sent to inform
the lords of the council of the matter; meantime
they were committed to ward. The magistrates
used the Pilgrims courteously, and showed
them what kindness and favor they could; but they
were not able to deliver the prisoners till order
came from the council-table. The issue was, that
after a month’s imprisonment, the greater part were
dismissed, and sent to the places from which they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span>
came; but seven of their chiefs were still left in
prison and bound over to the next assizes.”<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p>

<p>In the spring of 1608, these same indomitable
Pilgrims, together with some others, resolved to
make another effort to quit the house of bondage.
Dryden says that</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Only idiots may be cozened twice.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">This time they made a compact with a Dutch captain
at Hull—they would not trust an Englishman.<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a>
The plan now was, that the men should assemble
on a wild common, between Grimsby and Hull, a
place chosen on account of its remoteness from any
town; the women, the children, and the property of
the exiles were to be conveyed to that part of the
coast in a barque. The men made their way thither,
in small companies, by land. The barque reached
its destination a day sooner than the foot travellers;
it was also some hours ahead of the ship.<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a>
As the short, chop-sea of the channel caused the
passengers in the barque to suffer acutely from seasickness,
the sailors ran into a small creek for shelter.
Here the night was passed. How comfortless!
The deep roar of the sullen breakers smote heavily
upon their ears; and while the chill winds swept
over them, the ceaseless pulsing of the sea and the
hollow moaning of the waves at midnight, for the
sea continued rough, deepened the melancholy feelings
which could not but agitate their breasts. So<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span>
huddled on the weird, strange shore, they counted
the hours till dawn.<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></p>

<p>In the morning the longed-for ship arrived; but
through some negligence of the sailors, the vessel
containing the women, their little ones, and the
property, had run aground. The men stood in
groups on the shore; and that no time might be
lost, the captain sent his boat to convey some of
them on board, while a squad of sailors were detailed
to help get the grounded barque once more afloat.
But alack, by this time so considerable a gathering
in such a place, and at an hour so unusual,
had attracted attention; information was conveyed
to the neighboring authorities; and as the boat
which had already taken the great part of the men
to the ship, was again returning to the shore, the
captain espied a large company, some on horseback,
some afoot, but all armed, advancing towards
the spot where the hapless barque still lay aground
with the few remaining men grouped about it.
Alarmed, the mariner put back to his vessel, swore
by the sacrament that he would not stay, and deaf
to the importunities of his sad passengers, he spread
his sails, weighed anchor, and was soon out of sight.<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></p>

<p>We may imagine with what aching hearts the
poor exiles in the ship looked towards the receding
shore, to their disconsolate companions, and to their
precious wives and children, who stood there “crying
for fear and quaking with cold.” Those on board<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span>
the ship had no property, not even a change of raiment;
and they had scarcely a penny in their pockets.
But the loss of their possessions was as nothing
to the cruel stroke which had severed them from
those they best loved on earth.<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></p>

<p>“Robinson—honest and able general as he was
in every sense—had resolved to be the last to embark.
He was therefore a witness of the scene of
distress and agony which ensued on the departure
of the ship. The outburst of grief was not to be
restrained. Some of the women wept aloud; others
felt too deeply, were too much bewildered, to indulge
in utterance of any kind; while the children,
partly from seeing what had happened, and partly
from a vague impression that something dreadful
had come, mingled their sobs and cries in the general
lamentation. As the sail of the ship faded away
upon the distant waters, the wives felt as if one
stroke had reduced them all to widowhood, and
every child that had reached years of consciousness
felt as one who in a moment had become fatherless.
But thus dark are the chapters in human affairs in
which the good have often to become students, and
from which they have commonly had to learn their
special lessons.”<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a></p>

<p>On the approach of the officers some of the men
escaped, others remained to assist the helpless.
These were apprehended and “conveyed from constable
to constable, till their persecutors were weary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span>
of so large a number of captives and permitted them
to go their way.”<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></p>

<p>As to the voyagers, the very elements seemed
to war against them. They soon encountered foul
weather, and were driven far along the coast of Norway;
“nor sun, nor moon, nor stars, for many days
appeared.” Once they gave up all for lost, thinking
the ship had foundered. “But when,” says a
writer who was himself on board, “man’s hope and
help wholly failed, the Lord’s power and mercy appeared
for their recovery, for the ship rose again,
and gave the mariners courage once more to manage
her. While the waters ran into their very ears
and mouths, and all cried ‘We sink! we sink!’ they
also said, if not with miraculous, yet with a great
height of divine faith, ‘Yet, Lord, thou canst save!
yet, Lord, thou canst save!’ And He who holds the
winds in his fist, and the waters in the hollow of
his hand, did hear and save them.”<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></p>

<p>Eventually the storm-tossed ship dropped anchor
in Amsterdam harbor; and “in the end,” says
Young, “notwithstanding all these tortures, the Pilgrims
all got over, some at one time and some at
another, and met together again, according to their
desire, with no small rejoicing.”<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE HALT.</span></h2>

<div class="blockquot">

<p>“Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him; but weep
sore for him that goeth away: for he shall return no more, nor
see his native country.” <span class="smcap">Jer. 22:10.</span></p>
</div>


<p>When the Pilgrims stepped from the deck of
their vessel upon the quays of Amsterdam, they
felt that sad, aching sense of utter desolation which
always smites exiled hearts in a strange country.
But there was much about Amsterdam which tended
to increase this natural homesickness, and to make
the blood pulse still more coldly through their veins.
Every thing was novel; the manners, the costume,
the architecture, the language of the people. Their
first steps were involved in an apparently inextricable
maze; they were confounded by the bewildering
confusion of land and water. Canals, crawled
with their sluggish water, before them and behind
them, to the right and to the left. Indeed, the town
was so much interwoven with havens, that the oozy
ground was cut up into ninety-five islands or detached
blocks, connected with each other by two
hundred and ninety fantastic bridges. The principal
havens, called grachts, were from a hundred to
a hundred and forty feet wide, and extended in
semicircular curves one after the other through the
town.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span></p>

<p>In order to reach the interior of the city, it was
necessary to cross a number of these broad harbors;
and in making the necessary deflections in
passing from gracht to gracht, all recollection of
the points of the compass vanished from the minds
of the bewildered Englishmen, so that they received
the impression that they were wandering in a labyrinth
from which it was impossible to escape by
their own unaided efforts.</p>

<p>The houses were built of brick, and were generally
four or five stories high, with fantastic, pointed
gables in front. Some of them were elegantly constructed;
but the larger number of the citizens
seemed desirous of making their dwellings look as
like warehouses as possible. Almost every house
had a piece of timber projecting from the wall over
the uppermost window in the gable, and this was
used for hauling up fuel or furniture to the top
story. All the residences were erected upon piles
of wood driven into the soft, marshy ground; but
so insufficient was this precaution in giving stability,
that many of the buildings leaned considerably
from the perpendicular, and seemed as if about to
topple over into the street or splash out of sight
through the mud. The roadway between the
houses and the water was so narrow, that in some
of the finest streets a coach could not conveniently
turn round.</p>

<p>Such were some of the strange sights which
greeted the wondering eyes of the Pilgrims as they
hurriedly trod, on the day of their arrival, from the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span>
quay where they had landed, into the interior of
the quaint old town in search of lodgings.</p>

<p>A brief residence sufficed to familiarize the exiles
with the peculiarities of the city. They soon
discovered that Amsterdam stood upon the southern
bank of the Ai, a neck of the sea which possessed
the appearance of a navigable frith. They
examined the quays and piers which rose sheer out
of the water, so as to afford the greatest facility for
the shipment of goods from the abounding warehouses.
They wondered at the peculiar form of the
town, which was semicircular, with its straight side
on the Ai, while the bow swept several miles inland.
The canals were fed by the river Amstel,
from which the town was named. An immense
exterior belt of water, which the Dutch termed
“the cingel,” pursued a zig-zag line round the
sites of ancient bastions, which were then crowned
with windmills, whose long arms and tireless fingers
were incessantly employed in snatching up
the ever-encroaching water, and casting it far out
into the sea.</p>

<p>From the condition of a fishing-village on the
Amstel, in the thirteenth century, Amsterdam had
risen, under the fostering privileges of the counts
of Flanders, to be a commercial town of some importance
even in the fourteenth century. The
establishment of the Dutch independence so greatly
accelerated its prosperity, that in the beginning of
the seventeenth century it had attained the first
rank as a maritime city. Antwerp, the old El Dorado,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span>
was eclipsed. Amsterdam became the <span lang="fr">entrepôt</span>
of commerce; ships visited it from all nations;
its merchants were famed for their honesty and
frugality; and its great bank enabled it to take the
lead in the pecuniary concerns of Europe. The
city was inhabited by a quarter of a million of
souls; and seated in its swamp, it was the freest
town in the world. It was a city of refuge to the
oppressed of all nations; and therein, perhaps, lay
the secret of its wonderful prosperity.</p>

<p>Amsterdam was the Venice of the Netherlands.
It was literally a spot which had been wrung from
the grasp of the unwilling and ever-protesting sea.
A perpetual Waterloo conflict was waged between
the persistent Hollander and old Neptune for the
possession of the soil which man’s skill had usurped.
The city, and indeed the Netherlands at large,
formed the “debatable ground” of this unique struggle
between humanity and the elements. The whole
country was a morass, whose buildings were constructed
on huge piles; and it was this that gave
rise to the saying of Erasmus, that “multitudes of
his countrymen were like birds, living on the tops
of trees.” Across the forehead of the Netherlands
brains and persistence had written their motto,
“<i lang="la">Labor omnia vincit</i>.”<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span></p>

<p>Such was the city in which the Pilgrims now
found themselves domesticated. In some things
they found it easy to assimilate with their new
neighbors: a common faith was one strong bond
of union; a passion for liberty was another. But
there were not lacking strong points of dissimilarity.
The Pilgrims were orderly and staid; yet they
never could reconcile themselves to that spirit of
system, or precise, long-authorized method, which
formed one of the most remarkable traits in the
manners of the Dutch. In all departments of their
social economy they seemed to act upon established
rules, from which it was esteemed a species of heresy
to depart. There were rules for visiting, for
sending complimentary messages, for making domestic
announcements, for bestowing alms, for out-of-door
recreations—every thing was required to
be done in a certain way, and no other way was
right. Society was an incarnate rule.</p>

<p>Another thing which puzzled the Pilgrims was,
that in their various walks they observed that every
house was provided with one or more mirrors in
frames, fastened by wire rods on the outsides of the
windows, and at such an angle as to command a
complete view both of the doorway and of all that
passed in the street. They afterwards found that
these looking-glasses were universal in Holland,
and were the solace of the ladies while following
their domestic avocations.</p>

<p>But the exiles were too grateful for toleration
to be hypercritical. “They knew that they were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span>
<em>Pilgrims</em>, and looked not much on these things, but
lifted up their eyes to heaven, their dearest country,
and quieted their spirits.”<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> They spent no
time in idleness, but with stout hearts went to work.
They had been bred to agricultural pursuits; but
in Holland they were obliged to learn mechanical
trades. Brewster became a printer;<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> Bradford
learned the art of dyeing silk.<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> Some learned to
weave, and found employment in the cloth guilds
and at the looms. But though grim poverty often
pinched them, and their temporal circumstances
were never very prosperous, they yet praised God
for what they had; and exile and the bond of a
common misfortune knit their hearts close together,
so that their spiritual enjoyment in each other’s
society was precious and full.<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p>

<p>Amsterdam was not altogether a city of strangers.
There were some there already, who, like
themselves, had left their native island for conscience’
sake.<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> But though they had formed a
church, its vitals were torn by fierce dissension.
The feud blazed when Robinson and his friends
reached Holland; since nothing could placate the
resentment of the hostile parties, the Pilgrims,
fearful of the baleful effect of the quarrel upon
themselves, decided, after a sojourn of twelve<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span>
months, to remove from Amsterdam to the neighboring
city of Leyden.<a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></p>

<p>“While Amsterdam was rising into mercantile
wealth, Leyden was acquiring literary reputation.
By a singular but honorable preference, the citizens,
on being offered by William the Silent, in
1575, as a reward for their valor during the famous
siege, either a remission of taxes or the foundation
of a university, at once chose the university. The
city had obtained the appellation of the Athens of
the West. But with its scholastic cloisters it combined
busy manufactures: while in one street the
student was engaged with his books, in another the
weaver was seated at his loom. But all breathed
quietude and liberty; and it is difficult to imagine
a more inviting home than that which Leyden presented
to these weary, sore-footed Pilgrims as they
trod along the pleasant road from Amsterdam,
‘seeking peace above all other riches.’</p>

<p>“If the history of the city they had left was calculated
to stimulate them to industry, the story of
the town they were entering was adapted to keep
alive their love of liberty. Traces might still be
seen of the effects of the heroic deed performed by
the citizens of Leyden, when, contending for their
freedom, they preferred to inundate their city and
give it to the sea, rather than submit to the cruel
tyranny of Spain.”<a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></p>

<p>Here, as before at Amsterdam, they fell to work.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span>
“Being now pitched,” says Bradford, “they fell to
such trades and employments as they best could,
valuing peace and their spiritual comfort above
any other riches whatsoever; and at length they
came to raise a competent and decent living, but
with hard and continual labor.”<a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></p>

<p>In Leyden the Pilgrims remained for many
years, “enjoying much sweet society and spiritual
comfort together in the ways of God, under the able
and prudent government of Mr. John Robinson.
Yea, such was the mutual love and respect which
this worthy man had to his flock and his flock to
him, that it might be said of them, as it once was
of the famous emperor Marcus Aurelius<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> and the
people of Rome, that it was hard to judge whether
he delighted more in having such a people, or they
in having such a pastor. His love was great towards
them, and his care was always bent for their
best good, both for soul and body; for besides his
singular ability in divine things—wherein he excelled—he
was very able to give direction in civil
affairs, and to foresee dangers and inconveniences;
by which means he was very helpful to the outward
estates of the exiles, and so was in every way a
common father to them.”<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></p>

<p>Mr. William Brewster was Robinson’s assistant,
and “he was now called and chosen by the church”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span>
to fill the place of elder.<a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> The Pilgrims “grew in
knowledge and gifts and other graces of the Spirit
of God, and lived together in peace and love and
holiness; and as many came unto them from divers
parts of England, they grew to be a great congregation.
If at any time differences arose or offences
broke out—as it cannot be but sometimes there
will, even among the best of men—they were ever
so met with and nipped in the bud betimes, or otherwise
so well compassed, as still love, peace, and
communion, were preserved; or else the church was
purged of those that were incorrigible, when, after
much patience used, no other means would serve—which
seldom came to pass.”<a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></p>

<p>Though strict in their discipline and strongly
attached to their distinctive principles, the Leyden
exiles were far from being bigots. Robinson,
though, in Cotton Mather’s phrase, “he had been
in his younger time—as very good fruit hath sometimes
been, ere age hath ripened it—soured by the
principles of rigid separation,”<a id="FNanchor_54" href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> was now developed
into a man of large-hearted benevolence and enlightened
catholicity. Over his flock he breathed
this heavenly spirit. Nothing more offended him
than the conduct of those “who cleaved unto themselves,
and retired from the common good.”<a id="FNanchor_55" href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> Nothing
more provoked him than to witness undue rigidity<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span>
in the enforcement of subordinate matters, especially
when sternness on points of outward order
was associated, as is often the case, with laxity in
the critics. Robinson knew how to estimate “the
tithe of mint and anise and cummin” in their relative
value to the weightier matters of the law.
Schism he condemned; division he deplored. From
the government and ceremonies of the English
Establishment his conscience compelled him to dissent,
but he was prepared to welcome the disciples
of that and of all other Christian communions to
the fellowship of the Lord’s table. “Our faith,”
said he, “is not negative; nor does it consist in the
condemnation of others, and wiping their names out
of the bead-roll of churches, but in the edification
of ourselves. Neither require we of any of ours, in
the confession of their faults, that they renounce or
in any one word contest with the Church of England.”<a id="FNanchor_56" href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></p>

<p>It is not strange that such a teacher should have
won the reverent regard of his Pilgrim flock. They
could not fail to hold him “in precious estimation,
as his worth and wisdom did deserve.” And
“though they esteemed him highly while he lived
and labored among them,” says Bradford, “yet
much more after his death,<a id="FNanchor_57" href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> when they came to
feel the want of his help, and saw, by woful experience,
what a treasure they had lost; yea, such a
loss as they saw could not be repaired, for it was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span>
as hard for them to find such another leader and
feeder in all respects, as for the Taborites to find
another Ziska.<a id="FNanchor_58" href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> And though they did not, like the
Bohemians, call themselves orphans after his death,
yet they had as much cause to lament their present
condition and after-usage.”<a id="FNanchor_59" href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></p>

<p>Characterized by so much unity, peacefulness,
consistency, and true-hearted love, the Pilgrims
could not fail to win the sincere respect of the Leyden
citizens. Though most of them were poor, yet
there were none so poor but if they were known to
be of the English congregation, the Dutch tradesmen
would trust them in any reasonable amount
when they lacked money, and this because they
had found by experience how careful they were to
keep their word, while they saw them painful and
diligent in their respective callings. The Leyden
merchants even strove to get their custom; and
when they required aid, employed the honest strangers
and paid them above others.<a id="FNanchor_60" href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></p>

<p>The city magistrates testified to the sobriety
and peacefulness of their guests on the eve of their
departure from Holland. “These English,” said
they, in reproving the exiled Walloons<a id="FNanchor_61" href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> who were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span>
attached to the French refugee church, “have lived
among us now these twelve years, and yet we never
had any suit or action against any one of them;
but your strifes and quarrels are continual.”<a id="FNanchor_62" href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a></p>

<p>The reputation of their pastor for sanctity and
learning no doubt tended to raise the respectability
of the English church in the estimation of the
Dutch.</p>

<p>Circumstances afforded him ample scope for the
display of his talents. A heated discussion between
the Arminians and the Calvinists raged in Leyden
during his residence in the city, and in that far-famed
controversy the great English divine was
finally persuaded to take part.<a id="FNanchor_63" href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a></p>

<p>In the schools there were daily and hot disputes.
Scholars were divided in opinion. The two professors
or divinity readers of the Leyden university
were themselves ranged on opposite sides; one of
them, Episcopius, teaching the Arminian tenets;
the other, Polyander, proclaiming the Calvinistic
creed.<a id="FNanchor_64" href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a></p>

<p>Robinson, though he taught thrice a week, besides
writing sundry pamphlets,<a id="FNanchor_65" href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> went daily to listen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span>
to the disputations, hearing first one side, then the
other. In this way he became thoroughly grounded
in the controversy, saw the force of the opposing
arguments, and became familiar with the shifts of
the inimical disputants. Some sermons which he
delivered in the English church on the contested
issues attracted public attention. Episcopius had
just published certain theses which he had affirmed
that he was prepared to maintain against all opponents.
Polyander and the chief preachers of the
city waited upon Robinson, and urged him to pick
up the gauntlet. He was loath, being a stranger;
but they beat down the rampart of his objections,
and finally Robinson consented to dispute. Episcopius
and the Pilgrim pastor met, and in this public
tilt the English champion is said to have achieved
“a famous victory.”<a id="FNanchor_66" href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a></p>

<p>Ever after this verbal tournament, Robinson
was held in the highest esteem by the learned men
of the university, by the Dutch preachers, and by
the republican government of Holland.<a id="FNanchor_67" href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> Indeed,
it is said that nothing but the fear of offending the
English king prevented the bestowal upon him of
some mark of national favor.<a id="FNanchor_68" href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a></p>

<p>On their part, the English refugees always
treated the reformed churches of the Continent
with honor and fraternal kindness. “We acknowledge,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span>
remarked Robinson, “before God and man,
that we harmonize so perfectly with the reformed
churches of the Netherlands in matters of religion,
as to be ready to subscribe their articles of faith,
and every one of them, as they are set forth in their
confession. We acknowledge these churches as
true and genuine; we hold fellowship with them as
far as we can; those among us who understand
Dutch, attend their preaching; we offer the Supper
to such of their members as are known to us
and may desire it.”<a id="FNanchor_69" href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a></p>

<p>Yet the Pilgrims did not indorse the system of
church government which received the <i lang="la">imprimatur</i>
of the Synod of Dort. They steadfastly maintained
that each single church or society of Christians
possessed within itself full ecclesiastical authority
for choosing officers, administering all the ordinances
of the gospel, and settling its discipline; in
a word, they held to the perfect independence of
the individual churches, and framed their ecclesitical
polity on the purest democratic model.<a id="FNanchor_70" href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a></p>

<p>“They conceded,” observes Uhden, “that synods
and councils might be useful in healing divisions
between churches, and in imparting to them
friendly advice, but not in the exercise of judicial
authority over them, or in the imposition of any
canon or any article of faith, without the free assent
of each individual church.”<a id="FNanchor_71" href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span></p>

<p>Sheathed in the panoply of their principles,
busied in the multifarious activities of their daily
employments, and solaced by faith, the Pilgrims
“made shift to live in these hard times.” <i lang="la">Peregrini
Deo cura</i>, runs the old Latin phrase; and this
exiled band of worshippers proved that strangers
are indeed peculiar objects of God’s care.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE DECISION.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Can ye lead out to distant colonies</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The o’erflowings of a people, or your wronged</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Brethren, by impious persecution driven,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And arm their breasts with fortitude to try</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">New regions—climes, though barren, yet beyond</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The baneful power of tyrants? These are deeds</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">For which their hardy labors well prepare</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The sinewy arms of Albion’s sons.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent34"><span class="smcap">Dyer.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>Although the Pilgrims resided at Leyden in
honor, and at peace with God and their own consciences,
many circumstances conspired to render
them anxious and uneasy. The horizon of the Netherlands
grew gloomy with portents of war. The
famous truce between Holland and the Spaniard
drew near its conclusion.<a id="FNanchor_72" href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> The impatient demon
of strife stood knocking at the door. Homesickness
gnawed at their hearts. Dear, cruel England
filled their thoughts. The language of the Dutch
had never become pleasantly familiar.<a id="FNanchor_73" href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> Frequently
“they saw poverty coming on them like an armed
man.” Many of their little band were taken from
them by death. “Grave mistress Experience having<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span>
taught them many things,” some of their “sagest
members began both deeply to apprehend their
present dangers and wisely to foresee the future,
and to think of timely remedy.” They inclined to
removal, “not out of any newfangledness or other
such like giddy humor, by which men are oftentimes
transported to their great hurt and danger,
but for sundry weighty and solid reasons.”<a id="FNanchor_74" href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a></p>

<p>These have been often recited, and they completely
vindicate the project to remove.</p>

<p>The Pilgrims “saw, and found by experience,
the hardness of the place and country to be such
that few in comparison would come to them, and
fewer would bide it out and continue with them;
for many that joined them, and many more who
desired to be with them, could not endure the great
labor and hard fare, with other inconveniences
which they underwent and were content to bear.
But though they loved the persons of the exiles,
approved their cause, and honored their sufferings,
yet they left them weeping, as Orpah did her mother-in-law
Naomi, and as those Romans did Cato in
Utica, who desired to be excused and borne with,
though they could not all be Catos.<a id="FNanchor_75" href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> For many,
though they desired to enjoy the ordinances of God
as the Pilgrims did, yet, alas, chose bondage, with
danger of conscience, rather than to endure these
hardships. Yea, some preferred the prisons of England
to this liberty in Holland, with these afflictions.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span>
The Pilgrims thought that if a better and easier
place of residence could be had, it would draw many
to them, and take away these discouragements.
Yea, their pastor would often say that many of
those who both wrote and preached against them
there would, if they were in a place where they
might have liberty and live comfortably, practise
as they did.”<a id="FNanchor_76" href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a></p>

<p>Then again, “they saw that, though the exiles
generally bore all these difficulties very cheerfully
and with resolute courage, being in the best and
strength of their years, yet old age began to steal
upon them—and their great and continued labors,
with other crosses and sorrows, hastened it before
the time—so it was not only probably thought,
but apparently seen, that within a few years more
they would be in danger to scatter by necessities
pressing them, or sink under their burdens, or both.
Therefore, according to the divine proverb, that ‘a
wise man seeth the plague when it cometh, and
hideth himself,’<a id="FNanchor_77" href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> so they, like skilful and tried soldiers,
were fearful to be entrapped and surrounded
by their enemies, so as they should neither be able
to fight or fly; so they thought it better to dislodge
betimes to some place of better advantage and less
danger, if any such could be found.”<a id="FNanchor_78" href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a></p>

<p>It was furthermore perceived that, “as necessity
was a task-master over them, so they were forced to
be such, not only to their servants, but in a sort to
their dearest children; the which, as it did not a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span>
little wound the tender hearts of many loving fathers
and mothers, so it produced likewise sundry sad
and sorrowful effects; for many of their children,
who were of the best disposition and most gracious
inclinations, having learned to bear the yoke in their
youth, and being willing to bear part of their parents’
burden, were oftentimes so oppressed by their
heavy labors, that though their minds were free and
willing, yet their bodies bowed under the weight,
and became decrepit in early youth, the vigor of
nature being consumed in the bud. But that which
was more lamentable, and of all sorrows most heavy
to be borne, was, that many of the children, by these
means and the great licentiousness of youth in those
countries and the manifold temptations of the place,
were drawn away by evil example into extravagant
and dangerous courses, getting the reins off their
necks, and departing from their parents. Some became
soldiers, others made far voyages by sea, and
some walked in paths tending to dissoluteness and
the danger of their souls, to the great grief of their
parents and the dishonor of God. The Pilgrims
saw that their posterity would be in danger to degenerate
and be corrupted.”<a id="FNanchor_79" href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a></p>

<p>Still again—“and this was not least”—they were
inclined to remove by the “great hope and inward
zeal they had of laying some good foundation, or at
least of making some way thereto, for the propagation
and advancement of the gospel of the kingdom
of Christ in remote parts of the world; yea, though<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span>
they should be but even as stepping-stones unto
others for the performance of so great a work.”<a id="FNanchor_80" href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a></p>

<p>These and some other kindred reasons<a id="FNanchor_81" href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> pushed
the Pilgrims to further emigration. The question
which each began to ask the other was, “Whither
shall we go?” Soon this query stared all other
considerations out of countenance, and became the
all-engrossing topic of discussion at the hearth-stones
and in the chapel of the exiles.</p>

<p>At this juncture a germ of thought was developed
which proved to be the seed of a mighty empire.
All Europe stood a-tip-toe gazing across the
misty and chilling waste of waters towards that
new continent by whose discovery the genius of
Columbus had rounded the globe into perfect symmetry.
The glories of the New World flashed in
the brilliant eloquence of Raleigh. Marvellous tales
were told of the fertility of the soil and of the healthful
beauty of the skies; while old sailors, who had
gazed with their own eyes upon the legendary
shores, passed from city to city depicting to eager
and credulous crowds the terrors of the wilderness
and the wild ferocity of the Western savages.</p>

<p>Meantime “the career of maritime discovery had
been pursued with daring intrepidity and rewarded
with brilliant success. The voyages of Gosnold,
and Smith, and Hudson, the enterprise of Raleigh,
and Delaware, and Gorges, the compilations of
Eden, and Willes, and Hakluyt, had filled the commercial<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span>
world with wonder. Calvinists of the French
church had already sought, though vainly, to plant
themselves in Brazil, in Carolina, and, with De
Monts, in Acadia;”<a id="FNanchor_82" href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> and now, in 1617, some bold
thinker and unshrinking speaker among the Leyden
Pilgrims, perhaps Brewster, perhaps Bradford,
perhaps Robinson himself, proposed to colonize
“some of those vast and unpeopled countries of
America which were fruitful and fit for habitation,
but devoid of all civilized inhabitants; where there
were only savage and brutish men, who ranged up
and down little otherwise than as wild beasts.”<a id="FNanchor_83" href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a></p>

<p>At the outset the Pilgrims listened to this proposal,
some with admiration, some with misgiving,
some openly aghast. Bradford’s quaint pages afford
us some glimpses of their debates. The doubters
said, “It is a great design, and subject to inconceivable
perils; as besides the casualties of the seas,
which none can be freed from, the length of the voyage
is such that the weak bodies of many worn out
with age and travel, as many of us are, can never
be able to endure; and even if they should, the miseries
to which we should be exposed in that land
will be too hard for us to bear; ’tis likely that some
or all will effect our ruin. There we shall be liable
to famine, and nakedness, and want of all things.
The change of air, diet, and water, will infect us
with sickness; and those who escape these evils
will be in danger of the savages, who are cruel,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span>
barbarous, and most treacherous in their rage, and
merciless when they overcome; not being content
only to kill, but delighting to torment men in the
most bloody way, flaying men alive with the shells
of fishes, cutting off the joints by piece-meal, broiling
them on coals, and eating collops of their victims’
flesh while they yet live, and in their very
sight.”</p>

<p>As these horrors darkened in their imaginations,
the deeply-interested exiles who thronged the council-chamber
shuddered with affright. Mothers,
hearing the shrill war-whoop in advance, strained
their babes yet closer to their breasts. “Surely it
could not be thought but the very hearing of these
things must move the very bowels of men to grate
within them, and make the weak to quake and
tremble.”</p>

<p>But the opponents of the project urged still
other objections, “and those neither unreasonable
nor improbable.” “It will require,” they said, “more
money than we can furnish to prepare for such a
voyage. Similar schemes have failed;<a id="FNanchor_84" href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> and our
experience in removing to Holland teaches us how
hard it is to live in a strange country, even though
it be a rich and civilized commonwealth. What
then shall we do in the frozen wilderness?”</p>

<p>Fear chilled the hearts, doubt paralyzed the
nerves of the assembled exiles. Then the more
resolute stood up, and, fixing their eyes on the sky,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span>
exclaimed, “God will protect us; and he points us
on. All great and honorable actions are accompanied
with great difficulties, and must be both undertaken
and overcome with answerable courage. We
grant the dangers of this removal to be tremendous,
but not desperate; the difficulties are many, but
not invincible; for though many of them are likely,
all are not certain. It may be that sundry of the
things surmised may never happen; others, by provident
care and the use of good means, may be prevented;
and all of them, through the help of God,
by fortitude and patience may either be borne or
overcome. True it is that such attempts are not to
be undertaken without good reason; never rashly
or lightly, as many have done, for curiosity or hope
of gain. But our condition is not ordinary; our
ends are good and honorable; our calling lawful
and urgent; therefore we may invoke and expect
God’s blessing on our proceeding. Yea, though
we should lose our lives in this action, yet may we
have comfort in it, and our endeavor would be honorable.
We live here but as men in exile; and as
great miseries may befall us in this place, for the
twelve years of truce are now nigh up, and here is
nothing but beating of drums and preparations for
war, the events whereof are always uncertain. The
Spaniard may prove as cruel as the savages of
America, and the famine and pestilence as sore
here as there, and our liberty less to look out for a
remedy.”<a id="FNanchor_85" href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span></p>

<p>It was thus that the undaunted apostles of the
future pleaded; and now as always, the policy of
active, trustful, and religious courage overbore the
timid pleas of the undecided, the plausible doubts
of the skeptical, and the wailing dissent of the croakers
who paused distrustful of the unknown future
and enamoured of the anchored past. The Pilgrims
announced their decision to follow in the
wake of Columbus, and launch boldly across the
Atlantic, trusting God.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br>
<span class="fs80">FAREWELL.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Like Israel’s host to exile driven,</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">Across the flood the Pilgrims fled;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Their hands bore up the ark of heaven,</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">And Heaven their trusting footsteps led,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Till on these savage shores they trod,</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">And won the wilderness for God.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent28"><span class="smcap">Pierpont.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>Having decided to settle in America, the Pilgrims,
“after humble prayers unto God for his direction
and assistance,” held another general conference,
and in this they discussed the location of their proposed
colony. Some were ardent for Guiana,<a id="FNanchor_86" href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> whose
tropical climate and immeasurable mineral wealth
Raleigh had painted in dazzling colors, and whose
fertility was such that it was only necessary to
“tickle it with a hoe, and it would laugh with a
harvest.” The Spaniard was already there. It has
been well said that the golden dreams which deluded
the first European settlers of America were akin,
alike in object and results, to the old alchymists’
search after the philosopher’s stone. The painful
alchymist lost not only the gold he sought, but the
wealth of knowledge and of substantial commercial
treasure which the researches of modern chemistry
have disclosed; and so the Spanish colonists slighted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span>
the abounding wealth of a genial climate and a fertile
soil, while chasing the illusive phantom of “a
land of gold.”<a id="FNanchor_87" href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a></p>

<p>Yet, despite the apparent opening in Guiana, the
Pilgrims would not go thither, partly because the
pretensions of England to the soil were wavering,
but chiefly because a horde of intolerant and ubiquitous
Jesuits had already planted themselves in
that vicinity.<a id="FNanchor_88" href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a></p>

<p>“Upon their talk of removing, sundry of the
Dutch would have had them go under them, and
made them large offers;” but “the Pilgrims were
attached to their nationality as Englishmen, and to
the language of their fatherland. A deep-seated
love of country led them to the generous purpose
of recovering the protection of England by enlarging
her dominions. They were ‘restless’ with the
desire to live once more under the government of
their native land.”<a id="FNanchor_89" href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a></p>

<p>This feeling led them to reject the proposal of
the Holland merchants; and, since they had also
given up the idea of colonizing Guiana, they determined
to essay a settlement in “the most northern
parts of Virginia,” hoping under the provincial government
“to live in a distinct body by themselves,”
at peace with God and man.<a id="FNanchor_90" href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a></p>

<p>There were in 1617 two organized English companies
which had been chartered by James I. to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span>
colonize America, and empowered to effect regular
and permanent settlements, extending one hundred
miles inland. The headquarters of one of these was
in London, of the other in Plymouth.<a id="FNanchor_91" href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> The Leyden
Pilgrims were impelled to sail under the auspices
of one of these merchant-companies by a double
consideration—a lack of means to effect an independent
settlement, and a desire to emigrate in
such shape that they might live under English protection.<a id="FNanchor_92" href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a>
Hence on selecting Virginia as the site of
their intended settlement, the exiles at once despatched
two of their number to England, at the
charge of the rest,<a id="FNanchor_93" href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> to negotiate with the Virginia
company.<a id="FNanchor_94" href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a> They “found God going along with
them;” and through the influence of “Sir Edwin
Sandys, a religious gentleman then living,” they
might at once have gained a patent; but the careful
envoys desired first to consult “the multitude”
at Leyden.<a id="FNanchor_95" href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a></p>

<p>In their interview with the Leyden merchants,
the envoys had expressly stipulated for freedom of
religious worship.<a id="FNanchor_96" href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> On their return to Holland
they told the Leyden congregation that they “found
the Virginia company very desirous to have them
go out under their auspices, and willing to grant
them a patent, with as ample privileges as they
could bestow; while some of their chiefs did not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span>
doubt their ability to obtain a guaranty of toleration
for them from the king.”<a id="FNanchor_97" href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrim agents carried back with them a
friendly and sympathizing letter from Sir Edwin
Sandys;<a id="FNanchor_98" href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> and to this a formal answer was returned.
“We verily believe,” wrote Robinson and
Brewster, “that the Lord is with us, unto whom
and whose service we have given ourselves in many
trials; and that he will graciously prosper our endeavors
according to the simplicity of our hearts
therein. We are well weaned from the delicate milk
of our mother-country, and inured to the difficulties
of a strange and hard land, which yet, in a great
part, we have by patience overcome. Our people
are, for the body of them, industrious and frugal,
we think we may say, as any company of people in
the world. We are knit together as a body in a
most strict and sacred bond and covenant of the
Lord, of the violation whereof we make great conscience,
and by virtue whereof we do hold ourselves
strictly tied to all care of each other’s good, and of
the whole. It is not with us as with other men,
whom small things can discourage, or small discontentments
cause to wish themselves at home again.
We know our entertainment in England, and in
Holland; we shall much prejudice both our arts
and means by removal; but once gone, we should<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span>
not be won to return by any hope to recover even
our present helps and comforts.”<a id="FNanchor_99" href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a></p>

<p>While these negotiations were pending the Virginia
company found much greater difficulty than
they had apprehended in winning from the silly and
pedantic king an assent to the tolerant clauses of
the Pilgrims’ patent; “and though many means
were used to bring it about, it could not be
effected.”<a id="FNanchor_100" href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a> When the Pilgrims asked that liberty
of worship might be confirmed under the king’s
broad seal, they were asked two questions: “How
intend ye to gain a livelihood in the new country?”
The reply was, “By fishing, at first.” “Who shall
make your ministers?” was the next query. The
Pilgrims answered, “The power of making them is
in the church;” and this spoiled all. To enlarge
the dimensions of England James I. esteemed “a
good and honest motive; and fishing was an honest
trade, the apostles’ own calling,” yet he referred
their suit to the decision of the prelates of Canterbury
and London.<a id="FNanchor_101" href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a></p>

<p>The exiles were advised not to carry their suit
before the bishops, but to rely upon events and the
disposition which his majesty had shown to connive
at their enterprise under “a formal promise of neglect.”<a id="FNanchor_102" href="#Footnote_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a>
Besides, it was considered that if James
had confirmed their titles, nothing could bind him.
“If afterwards there should be a purpose to wrong<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span>
us,” said they, “though we had a seal as broad as
the house floor, it would not serve the turn; for
there would be means enough found to recall or
reverse it.”<a id="FNanchor_103" href="#Footnote_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a> So they determined in this, as in other
things, to rest on God’s providence.</p>

<p>New agents were at once despatched to England
to urge forward the lagging preparations. But dissensions
in the Virginia company “ate out the heart
of action.” At last, in 1619, a patent was granted,<a id="FNanchor_104" href="#Footnote_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a>
and only “one more negotiation remained to be
completed. The Pilgrims were not possessed of
sufficient capital for the execution of their scheme.
The confidence in wealth to be derived from fisheries
had made American expeditions a subject
of consideration with English merchants; and the
agents from Leyden were able to form a partnership
between their friends and the men of business
in London. A company called the ‘Merchant-Adventurers’
was formed. The services of each emigrant
were rated as a capital of ten pounds, and
belonged to the company; all profits were to be
reserved till the end of seven years, when the whole
amount, and all houses, lands, gardens, and fields,
were to be divided among the shareholders according
to their respective interests. A London merchant
who risked one hundred pounds would receive
for his money tenfold more than the penniless laborer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span>
for his entire services. This arrangement threatened
a seven years’ check to the pecuniary prosperity
of the colony; yet as it did not interfere with
civil rights or religion, it did not intimidate the
resolved.”<a id="FNanchor_105" href="#Footnote_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a></p>

<p>It is peculiarly interesting to us of this generation
to notice how prominent a trait republicanism
was in the intellectual character of the Pilgrims.
It crops out constantly. Nothing must be done
without the assent of “the multitude.” When any
important matter was broached, the pastor did not
presume to dictate, nor did the elders assume to
control; the decision rested with the majority vote
of the community. Their council was the ideal
model of a pure democracy.</p>

<p>So now, when their envoys returned, “they made
a public recital,” and the Pilgrims “had a solemn
meeting and a day of humiliation to seek the Lord
for his direction.”<a id="FNanchor_106" href="#Footnote_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> Robinson preached, “teaching
many things very aptly and befitting their present
occasion and condition, strengthening them against
their fears and perplexities, and encouraging them
in their resolutions.”<a id="FNanchor_107" href="#Footnote_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a></p>

<p>This fine incident was at once an illustration and
a prophecy; it illustrated the rugged, self-centred,
yet devout independence of the exiles, and it prophesied
from this the twining laurels of success. The
Pilgrims were invincible; and the secret of their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span>
strength was religious democracy. If in their right hand
they held an open Bible, signifying faith and
hope, in their left they clutched tenaciously the fundamental
but still crude principles of organized liberty—the
now open secret of later Saxon progress.</p>

<p>At length, in July, 1620, “after much travail and
debate, all things were got ready and provided.”<a id="FNanchor_108" href="#Footnote_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a>
It had been previously decided who and how many
should sail with “the forlorn hope;” “for all that
were willing to have gone could not get ready on
account of their other affairs; neither if they could,
had there been means to have transported them all
together. Those that stayed being the greater
number, required the pastor to tarry with them;
and indeed for other reasons Robinson could not
then well go, so this was more readily yielded unto.
The others then desired elder Brewster to sail with
them, which was assented to. It was also agreed
by mutual consent and covenant, that those who
went should be an absolute church of themselves,
as well as those who remained; seeing that, in such
a dangerous voyage, and removed to such a distance,
it might come to pass that they should, for
the body of them, never meet again in this world;
yet this proviso was inserted, that as any of the
rest crossed the water, or any of the Pilgrims returned
upon occasion, they should be reputed as
members without any further discussion or testimonial.
It was also promised to those that went
first, by the body of the rest, that if the Lord gave<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span>
them life and means and opportunity, they would
come to them as soon as they could.”<a id="FNanchor_109" href="#Footnote_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a></p>

<p>On the eve of departure a solemn fast was held.
“Let us seek of God,” said these disciples so shortly
to be severed by the sullen sea, “a right way for us
and for our little ones and for all our substance.”
Is it strange that New England is moral and well-ordered
and devout, when it was begotten of a fast
and a prayer?</p>

<p>Robinson gave the departing members of his
exiled flock “a farewell, breathing a freedom of
opinion and an independence of authority such as
then was hardly known in the world;”<a id="FNanchor_110" href="#Footnote_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> and this he
intermixed with practical directions for the future
guidance of the Pilgrim voyagers. He chose that
beautiful text in Ezra, “And there, at the river by
Ahava, I proclaimed a fast, that we might humble
ourselves before God, and seek of him a right way
for us, and for our children, and for all our substance.”<a id="FNanchor_111" href="#Footnote_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a></p>

<p>Unhappily, “but a brief outline of that remarkable
sermon has been preserved. We would gladly
give whole shoals of printed discourses in exchange
for that one homily. While, however, the larger
part is lost in the long silence of the past, the fragments
of this great man’s farewell utterances are
gathered up and preserved among our richest
relics.”<a id="FNanchor_112" href="#Footnote_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span></p>

<p>Never was there a more affecting occasion. A
Christian congregation, welded together alike by a
common faith and a common misfortune, was about
to be rent asunder. Some of their number, thrice
exiled, were soon to essay the settlement of an unknown
and legendary wilderness. These dear wanderers
they might never see again with their mortal
eyes; and even should they meet them once more
on the shores of time, years must intervene before
the greeting. Strange thoughts and anxious chased
each other across the troubled mirror of each countenance.
All eyes were dim with tears; all hands
were clasped; the pastor’s heart was full. Amidst
the painful silence, broken by a frequent sob, the
low, sweet voice of Robinson was heard quivering
upon the sympathetic air: “Brethren, we are now
ere long to part asunder, and the Lord knoweth
whether I shall live ever to see your faces more.
But whether the Lord hath appointed it or not, I
charge you before God and his blessed angels to
follow me no farther than I have followed Christ.
If God should reveal any thing to you by any other
instrument of his, be as ready to receive it as ever
you were to receive any truth of my ministry, for I
am very confident the Lord hath more truth and
light yet to break forth out of his holy word. Miserably
do I bewail the state and condition of the
reformed churches, who are come to a period in
religion, and will go no farther than the instruments
of their reformation.</p>

<p>“Remember your church covenant, in which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span>
you have agreed to walk in all the ways of the
Lord, made or to be made known unto you. Remember
your promise and covenant with God and
with one another to receive whatever light and truth
shall be made known to you from his written word;
but withal, take heed, I beseech you, what you receive
for truth, and compare it and weigh it with
other scriptures of truth before you accept it; for
it is not possible the Christian world should come
so lately out of such thick antichristian darkness,
and that full perfection of knowledge should break
forth at once.”<a id="FNanchor_113" href="#Footnote_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a></p>

<p>Much is said now-a-days about the development
of Christianity. The clatter of <em>pseudo</em>-philosophers
is deafening. We have the German rationalistic
school; the worshippers in the “broad church” of
the humanitarians; the idolaters of a mystic pantheism;
the devotees of the Socinian tenets; the
bold blasphemers who reject all faith, and form a
creed in epigrammatic sneers; and the apostles of
two churches, one of which believes that God is too
good to damn men, while the other holds that man
is too good to be damned. All this divinity is quite
adrift; it floats rudderless, and rejects the anchorage
of God’s word. Robinson was wiser. He was
no friend of stagnant Christianity; but in all his
voyaging after truth he clung to his Bible anchorage.
Inside of that he saw ample room for the
completest development. “The Bible, not the fathers,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span>
formed his text-book; he discerned there the
depths of truth and glory, into which he was persuaded
that thoughtful minds might plunge farther
and farther as time rolled on. The Bible was to
him like the universe, a system unchangeable in its
great facts and fundamental principles, but ever
opening wider and wider upon devout and studious
intellects. He knew there would be no change in
God’s word, no addition to or subtraction from its
contents; but he looked for beautiful and improving
changes in men’s views—for broader, clearer,
and grander conceptions of God’s truth.”<a id="FNanchor_114" href="#Footnote_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> This
was Robinson’s idea of “the development of Christianity,”
and it was surcharged with profound philosophy
as well as with sound practical direction
and Christian pathos. The great Puritan teacher
was neither a Socinian, a Pantheist, a Rationalist,
nor a Mystic; he claimed no kinship with the money-changers
who scourge Christ out of the temple
of his divinity; least of all did he sympathize with
those who reject the sufficiency of the Scripture
text, and found their schemes of progress upon
material bases. No; Robinson favored the most
radical Christian progress, but he based his idea
upon the Bible, and knew how to guard his notion
of development from misconception and abuse.
The evangelical believers of our day owe the famous
Leyden exile a lasting debt of gratitude for
the clear distinction which he has drawn between
the progressive “liberty of the sons of God,” and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span>
the earth-born whims which materialism baptizes
with the name of “progress.”</p>

<p>In this same sermon Robinson pressed one other
thing, exhibiting, in a bigoted and narrow age,
rare catholicity of spirit. “Another thing I commend
to you,” he said; “by all means shake off
the name of <em>Brownist</em>.<a id="FNanchor_115" href="#Footnote_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> ’Tis a mere nickname, a
brand to make religion odious, and the professors
of it, to the Christian world. To that end I should
be glad if some godly minister would go over with
you before my coming; for there will be no appreciable
difference between the Puritans who have
not renounced the church of England and you,
when you come to the practice of the ordinances
out of the British kingdom. By all means close
with the godly party of England, and rather study
union than division; in how nearly we may possibly,
without sin, close with them, than in the least
measure to affect division or separation from them.
Nor be ye loath to take another pastor or teacher;
for that flock which hath two shepherds is not endangered,
but secured thereby.”<a id="FNanchor_116" href="#Footnote_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span></p>

<p>Thus abruptly ends this precious fragment;
and it may justly be esteemed one of the rarest
verbal gems in the trophied casket of our Saxon
tongue.</p>

<p>Two vessels had been chartered for the voyage:
the “<i>Speedwell</i>,” a small ship of some sixty tons,
and a larger vessel of a hundred and eighty tons,
called the “<i>Mayflower</i>.”<a id="FNanchor_117" href="#Footnote_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> The “Speedwell” lay
moored at Delft Haven, a little seaport in the vicinity
of Leyden.<a id="FNanchor_118" href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> The Pilgrims were to sail in this
ship across the Channel to Southampton, where the
“Mayflower” would join them, and thence they
were to launch in company across the Atlantic.<a id="FNanchor_119" href="#Footnote_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a></p>

<p>On the 21st of July, 1620, the exiles quitted
Leyden, which had been their quiet resting-place
for eleven years, and journeyed to Delft Haven.
“When the ship was ready to carry us away,”
wrote Edward Winslow, “the brethren that stayed
at Leyden, having again solemnly sought the Lord
with us and for us, feasted us that were to go, at
our pastor’s house, a commodious building. Here
we refreshed ourselves, after tears, with singing
psalms, making joyful melody in our hearts, as well
as with the voice, there being many of the congregation
very expert in music; and indeed it was the
sweetest melody that ever mine ears heard. After
this our friends accompanied us to Delft Haven,
where we were to embark, and there feasted us<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span>
again. And after prayer by our pastor, when a
flood of tears was poured out, they accompanied
us to the ship; but we were not able to speak
one to another for the abundance of sorrow to
part.”<a id="FNanchor_120" href="#Footnote_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a></p>

<p>Only a part of the colonists went aboard the
“Speedwell” on the day of their arrival at Delft
Haven; the others tarried in the town over night,
spending the hours in conversation and expressions
of true Christian love.<a id="FNanchor_121" href="#Footnote_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a> “The morning light must
have gleamed mournfully upon their eyes through
the windows of the apartments where they assembled.
It told them that the last days of their pleasant
intercourse with old, endeared friends had
come, for the wind was fair, and the vessel was
ready to weigh anchor and sail. And so they went
down to the shore, where the scene at Miletus was
literally repeated, save that the people were the
voyagers, instead of their apostolic father. Robinson
‘kneeled down and prayed with them, and all
wept sore, and fell upon his neck and kissed him,
sorrowing most of all for the words which he spake,
that they should see his face no more; then he
accompanied them to the ship.’ Even the Dutch
strangers, who saw the parting, stood and wept.”<a id="FNanchor_122" href="#Footnote_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a></p>

<p>Then came the shrill “Yo hoy” of the seamen;
final caresses were exchanged; sail was hoisted; a
salute was fired from the “Speedwell;” and while
the friends on shore watched the receding vessel<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span>
and strained their eye-balls to retain their vision,
she glinted below the horizon, and was gone.</p>

<p>Southampton was safely and speedily reached;
“the <i>Speedwell</i> entered port to join the <i>Mayflower</i>—ships
whose names have become hallowed, and are
worthy of being placed, with the Argo of the ancients,
amid the constellations of heaven.”</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE FROZEN WILDERNESS.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Whoso shrinks or falters now,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Whoso to the yoke would bow</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Brand the craven on his brow.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Take your land of sun and bloom;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Only leave to freedom room</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">For her plough, and forge, and loom.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent28"><span class="smcap">Whittier.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>At Southampton the Pilgrims made no lengthened
stay, pausing but to perfect some necessary
final arrangements.<a id="FNanchor_123" href="#Footnote_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a> A fortnight later, on the 5th
of August, 1620, the “Speedwell” and the “Mayflower”
weighed anchor, and hoisting sail, set out
in company for America. The English soil had
scarcely dipped below the horizon, when the
“Speedwell” made signals of distress; she was
found to leak badly. After consultation, the voyagers
wore ship, and put into Dartmouth harbor
for repairs. Here the Pilgrims passed eight days,
“to their great charge, and loss of time and a fair
wind.”<a id="FNanchor_124" href="#Footnote_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a></p>

<p>On the 21st of August, a fresh start was made.
This time a hundred leagues of sea were passed,
and the vessels were just rounding Land’s End,
when lo, the “Speedwell” again bore up under<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span>
pretence of unseaworthiness. Once more the shores
of England were regained, and anchor was dropped
in Plymouth harbor. The captain of the recusant
ship, backed by his company, was dismayed at the
dangers of the enterprise, and gave out that the
“Speedwell” was too weak for the voyage. “Upon
this,” says Bradford, “it was resolved to dismiss
her and part of the company, and to proceed with
the ‘Mayflower.’ This, though it was grievous
and caused great discouragement, was put into execution.
So after they had taken out such provision
as the ‘Mayflower’ could stow, and concluded
both what number and what persons to send back,
they had another sad parting, the one ship going
back to London, and the other preparing for the
voyage. Those that returned were such as, for the
most part, were willing to do so, either out of discontent
or some fear conceived of the ill-success of
a voyage pressed against so many crosses, and in a
year-time so far spent. Others, in regard to their
own weakness and the charge of many young children,
were thought least useful, and most unfit to
bear the brunt of this hard adventure; unto which
work of God and judgment of their brethren they
were content to submit. And thus, like Gideon’s
army, this small number was divided, as if the Lord
thought even these few too many for the great work
he had to do.”<a id="FNanchor_125" href="#Footnote_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a></p>

<p>But though Cushman wrote, “Our voyage thus
far hath been as full of crosses as ourselves of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span>
crookedness,”<a id="FNanchor_126" href="#Footnote_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a> no dangers could appal the dauntless;
and “having thus winnowed their numbers, the little
band, not of resolute men only, but wives, some far
gone in pregnancy, children, infants, a floating village,
yet in all but one hundred souls, went on board
the single ship, which was hired only to carry them
across the Atlantic; and on the 6th of September,
1620, thirteen years after the first colonization of
Virginia, two months before the concession of the
grand charter of Plymouth, without any warrant
from the sovereign of England, without any useful
charter from a corporate body, the Pilgrims in the
‘Mayflower’ set sail for the New World, where
the past could offer no favorable auguries.”<a id="FNanchor_127" href="#Footnote_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a></p>

<p>But these Christian heroes of a grander venture
than that classic voyage which Virgil has sung of
old Æneas,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry" lang="la">
    <div class="verse indent4">“Trojæ qui primus ab oris</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Italiam, fato profugus, Lavinaque venit</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Litora,”<a id="FNanchor_128" href="#Footnote_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">unawed by the abounding perils of the sea and
land, unchilled by the desertion of their comrades,
kept on their solitary way, and “bated no jot of
heart or hope.”</p>

<p>The “Mayflower” was a small vessel, yet smaller
ones had repeatedly explored the ocean. “Columbus’
‘ships’ were from fifteen to thirty-two tons
burden, and without decks. Frobisher had traversed
the watery waste with a vessel of twenty-five<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span>
tons, and Pring had coasted along the shores of
New England in a bark of fifty tons. Those were
manned by hardy seamen, to whom the tempest
was a play-fellow; but these men and women and
children knew nothing of the sea; they only knew
that ships sailed, and too often did not return;
they had seen the sea, even along the coasts of
England and Holland, lashed into fury. To trust
themselves upon it on an uncertain voyage to a
wilderness harbor” was no gala undertaking; yet
serenely they accepted the situation, thankful to
God for civil rights and untrammelled liberty to
hymn his praises.</p>

<p>“The voyage of the pioneer ship,” says Elliot,
“was long, tempestuous, and monotonous, as what
sea-voyage is not? yet, with a firm purpose, she
opened a way through the buffeting ocean towards
the setting sun. Already its rays came to them a
little shorn; the autumn solstice was at hand, and
winter not far away. In religious exercises, in hopeful
conversation, the exiles passed the weary days.
These were varied by storms, and once by a great
danger. In the straining of the ship, a strong timber
threatened to break. Then, among the lumber
which they had brought, a large ‘iron screw was
found, and the ship was saved.’ Their faces were
turned westward, but who can wonder that a lingering
look was cast behind, and that pleasant
memories for a moment dimmed their recent sufferings
and present hopes? Men, women, and children
suffered the ‘sickness of the sea,’ that sickness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span>
which is inexorable, which weakens the knees,
burdens the heart, and paralyzes the brain. The
sailors laughed and scoffed; but to them it seemed
that death was nigh. Yet it was not; one only of
the whole number, William Butten, died during the
voyage; and one was born to take his place, a son
of Stephen Hopkins, named Oceanus, the son of
the sea.</p>

<p>“Daily the Pilgrims turned their eyes westward,
hoping for a sight of the new land. They had
shaped their course for the Hudson river, of which
the Dutch navigators had made favorable reports.
As the voyage lengthened, their longings for the
land increased. They had been tossed on the sea
now sixty-five days, when, on the 9th of November,
the long, low coast-line of the New World gladdened
their eyes. They thanked God for the sight,
and took courage. On the 11th of November they
dropped anchor within Cape Cod. Sixty-seven days
they had passed in the ship since their final departure
from England, and one hundred and twelve
since the embarkation at Delft Haven. They were
weary, many were sick, and the scurvy had attacked
some. They might well rejoice that they had
reached these shores.”<a id="FNanchor_129" href="#Footnote_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a></p>

<p>On their departure from Holland, Robinson had
handed them a long and pregnant letter of instruction
and advice. In this he counselled, among
other things, the early formation of a body politic,
and the inauguration of a civil government. “As<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span>
you are not furnished with persons of special eminence
above the rest to be chosen by you into office
of government,” he added, “let your wisdom and
godliness appear not only in choosing such persons
as do entirely love and will to promote your common
good, but also in yielding unto them all due honor
and obedience in their lawful administrations.”<a id="FNanchor_130" href="#Footnote_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a></p>

<p>In obedience to this sage counsel, the Pilgrims
now, before landing, met to consider how their government
should be constituted; and they formed
themselves into a body politic by this formal, solemn,
and voluntary compact:</p>

<p>“In the name of God, Amen; We whose names
are underwritten, the loyal subjects of our dread sovereign
King James, having undertaken, for the glory
of God, and advancement of the Christian faith, and
honor of our king and country, a voyage to plant
the first colony in the northern parts of Virginia,
do, by these presents, solemnly and mutually, in
the presence of God and of one another, covenant
and combine ourselves together into a civil body
politic, for our better ordering and preservation,
and furtherance of the ends aforesaid; and by virtue
hereof, to enact, constitute, and frame such just
and equal laws, ordinances, constitutions, and offices,
from time to time, as shall be thought most
convenient for the general good of the colony: unto
which we promise all due submission and obedience.”<a id="FNanchor_131" href="#Footnote_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span></p>

<p>“This instrument—under which John Carver
was immediately and unanimously chosen governor
for one year—was signed by the whole body of men,
forty-one in number; who, with their families, constituted
the one hundred, the whole colony, ‘the
proper democracy’ that arrived in New England.
This was the birth of popular constitutional liberty.
The Middle Ages had been familiar with charters
and constitutions; but they had been merely compacts
for immunities, concessions of municipal privileges,
or limitations of the sovereign power in favor
of feudal institutions. In the cabin of the ‘Mayflower’
humanity recovered its rights, and instituted
government on the basis of ‘equal laws’ for
‘the general good.’”<a id="FNanchor_132" href="#Footnote_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a></p>

<p>Law and order provided for, the Pilgrims next
proceeded to select the precise spot for their settlement.
“The first Virginia colony,” remarks Bancroft,
“sailing along the shores of North Carolina,
was, by a favoring storm, driven into the magnificent
bay of the Chesapeake. The Pilgrims, having chosen
for their settlement the country near the
Hudson, the best position on the whole coast,
were conducted, through some miscalculation, to
the most barren and inhospitable part of Massachusetts.”<a id="FNanchor_133" href="#Footnote_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a></p>

<p>It was a mooted question whether to plant a colony
on this frigid coast, or to hoist anchor anew and
set sail for the Hudson. The captain of the “Mayflower”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span>
favored an immediate settlement;<a id="FNanchor_134" href="#Footnote_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a> and the
voyagers, weary of the sea, and, perhaps, influenced
by the fact that the winter began to breathe upon
them, finally determined to send ashore a reconnoitering
squad to sound the disposition of the natives,
and to select a landing-spot.</p>

<p>In 1584, the settlers under Sir Walter Raleigh’s
patent had named the entire southeastern coast of
North America Virginia, after Queen Elizabeth; but
in 1614 the name of New England began to be applied
to the more northern portion of this immense
extent of territory;<a id="FNanchor_135" href="#Footnote_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a> and thus it happened that here,
on this wild coast, the Pilgrims had a dear home
word still wrapped around them.</p>

<p>On the 13th of November, the exiles unshipped
their shallop. It was found to want repairs. Sixteen
or seventeen days must elapse ere it could be
gotten ready for service, so the carpenter said. Impatient
of delay, sixteen men, “with every man his
musket, sword, and corslet,” went ashore, headed
by stout Miles Standish, the military leader of the
Pilgrims.<a id="FNanchor_136" href="#Footnote_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a></p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.”<a id="FNanchor_137" href="#Footnote_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span></p>

<p>“On account of the danger,” the expedition “was
rather permitted than approved.” But Standish and
his comrades had braved peril too often to yield
it obeisance. They found the shore inexpressibly
bleak and barren. Winter had already set his icy
kiss upon the streams. Nothing greeted their eyes
but heavy sand, a few stunted pines, and some
sweet woods, as junipers and sassafras. They made
this record in their journal: “We found the greatest
store of fowl that ever we saw.”<a id="FNanchor_138" href="#Footnote_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a></p>

<p>Explorations were at once commenced. “They
sent parties along the coast, and into the forests.”
“About ten o’clock one morning,” says a
member of the band, “we came into a deep valley,
full of brush, woodgaile, and tiny grass, through
which we found little paths or tracks, and then we
saw a deer, and found springs of fresh water, of
which we were heartily glad, and sat us down
and drank our first New England water.”<a id="FNanchor_139" href="#Footnote_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a> Continuing
their march, they were perplexed by the
frequent forest cross-paths. Once they struck a
track “well nigh ten feet broad,” which they thought
might lead to some human habitation; but eventually
they concluded that it was “only a path made
to drive deer in when the Indians hunted.”</p>

<p>Still they found no natives; and wearying of that
path they took another, when, lo, they saw a mound
“which looked like a grave, but was larger.” “Musing
what it might be,” they finally determined to
examine. “We found,” says the old chronicler,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span>
“first a mat, and under that a fair bow, and then
another mat, and under that a board about three
feet long, finely carved and painted; also between
the mats we found bowls, trays, dishes, and such
like trinkets. At length we came to a fair new mat,
and under that two bundles—one bigger the other
less. We opened the greater, and found in it a
great quantity of fine and perfect red powder, and
the bones and skull of a man. We opened the less
bundle, and found the same powder in it, and the
bones and head of a little child.</p>

<p>“Once, when examining one of these grave
mounds, we found a little old basket full of fair Indian
corn, and on digging farther, found a fine, great
basket full of very fair corn of this year, with some
thirty-six goodly ears of corn, which was a goodly
sight; the basket was round and narrow at the top;
it held about three or four bushels, which was as
much as we could lift from the ground, and it was
very handsomely and cunningly made.”<a id="FNanchor_140" href="#Footnote_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a></p>

<p>This corn was carefully preserved for seed. “We
took it,” says the conscientious narrator, “proposing,
as soon as we could meet with any of the
inhabitants of that place, to make them large satisfaction.”<a id="FNanchor_141" href="#Footnote_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a>
And afterwards this corn was mentioned
to Massasoit, the Indian king, when the exiles proffered
it back to the owners, and on their refusal of
it, paid them in “whatsoever they might rather
choose.”<a id="FNanchor_142" href="#Footnote_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span></p>

<p>This exploration was unsuccessful; as was also
the first expedition in the shallop, which had been
at length repaired. “Some of the people that died
that winter took the origin of their death” in this
second enterprise; “for it snowed and did blow all
the day and night, and froze withal.” The men who
were from time to time set on shore “were tired
with marching up and down the steep hills and deep
valleys, which lay half a foot thick with snow.”<a id="FNanchor_143" href="#Footnote_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a></p>

<p>Checkered by these adventures, the days passed
away, and meantime the winter deepened. Nothing
had yet been done, the captain was impatient to
be gone, and he threatened to set his passengers
ashore at hap-hazard under the cheerless skies and
bitter winds of drear December.<a id="FNanchor_144" href="#Footnote_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a></p>

<p>Pushed to renewed exertion by these considerations,
the dauntless Pilgrims once more launched
their shallop, and quitting their loved ones in the
ship, again essayed to find some proper site for a
settlement. This time Carver, Bradford, Winslow,
and Standish, accompanied by eight sailors, made
the coasting voyage.<a id="FNanchor_145" href="#Footnote_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a> Infinite were the hardships
which this little band, sailing in December, in an
open boat, were compelled to undergo. “Some of
them were like to have swooned with cold.” “The
water, dashing in spray upon their clothes, froze,
and made them like coats of iron.” For fifteen
leagues they held on their cheerless course upon
the winter sea. They had quitted the “Mayflower”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span>
on the 6th of December; two days later they landed.
“Whereupon,” says the old chronicler, “we espied
some Indians, very busy about some black thing;
what it was we could not tell, till, afterwards, they
saw us, and ran to and fro as if they had been carrying
away something.” “It was the body of a
grampus. Ere long a great cry was heard, and one
of the company came running in, shouting ‘Indians!
Indians!’ This was followed by a flight of
arrows; but Captain Standish was ready, and
quickly discharged his musket; and then another,
and another, so that the Indians retreated, and, except
for the fright, no harm was done.” “The cry
of our enemies,” remarks the narrator, “was frightful.
Their note was after this manner: ‘<em>Woath
wach haha hach woach</em>,’ sounds which we may now
utter with safety—if we can.”<a id="FNanchor_146" href="#Footnote_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a> This spot was afterwards
known as “First Encounter.”<a id="FNanchor_147" href="#Footnote_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a></p>

<p>No convenient harbor had yet been found. But
“the pilot of the boat, who had been in these
regions before, gave assurance of a good one which
might be reached before night; and they followed
his guidance. After some hours’ sailing, a storm of
snow and rain began; the sea was swollen; the rudder
broke; the boat had to be steered with oars.
Every moment the storm increased; night was at
hand; to reach harbor before dark, as much sail as
possible was crowded on: then the mast broke into
three pieces; the sail fell overboard. The pilot, in
dismay, would have run the shallop on shore in a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span>
cove full of breakers. ‘About with her,’ shouted
a sailor, ‘or we are cast away!’ They got her
about immediately, and, in passing over the surf,
they entered a fair sound, and found shelter under
the lee of a small rise of land. It was dark, and the
rain beat furiously; yet the men were so wet, and
cold, and weak, that they slighted the danger to be
apprehended from the savages, and going ashore,
after great difficulty kindled a fire. Morning, as it
dawned, showed the place to be a small island without
the entrance of a harbor. Time was precious;
the season advancing; their companions were left
off Cape Cod in suspense. Yet the day was required
for rest and preparation. It was so spent. The following
day was the ‘Christian Sabbath.’ Nothing
marks the character of the Pilgrims more fully than
that they kept it sacredly though every consideration
demanded haste.”<a id="FNanchor_148" href="#Footnote_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a></p>

<p>On Monday, the 11th<a id="FNanchor_149" href="#Footnote_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a> of December, 1620, the
exploring shallop quitted the island Patmos, and,
proceeding up the harbor, landed the Pilgrim scouting
party, on that same immortal day, at Plymouth
Rock. There, in one sense, New England was
born; and, as the Forefathers stepped upon the
rock-ribbed shore, it uttered its first baby-cry, a
prayer and a thanksgiving to the Lord—an echo of
the old Chaldean shepherds’ song, “Glory to God
in the highest; on earth peace, good-will to men.”</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE PILGRIM SETTLEMENT.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Quit ye as men; be true then, who would fight</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">In this so holy cause; think ye a soul</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Weighed down by beggarly lusts can have a right</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">To urge God’s ark of freedom to its goal?</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">They must be holy who’re ordained to be</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The high priests of a people’s liberty.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent31"><span class="smcap">Wilson.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>A short survey of the surrounding country convinced
the Pilgrim pioneers that the long-sought
spot had at last been found. They determined to
plant their settlement on Plymouth Rock, with no
other seal than the broad one of the Divine sanction.
Entering their shallop, they soon regained
the “Mayflower.” Carver recited the story of their
adventures to the clustering voyagers; and when
he said that a spot had been found where they
might erect their Ebenezer, devoutly all thanked
God.</p>

<p>At once the “Mayflower’s” course was shaped
for Plymouth harbor, where she dropped anchor on
the 16th of December.<a id="FNanchor_150" href="#Footnote_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a> The first law on the Pilgrim
statute-book was, that each man should build
his own house.<a id="FNanchor_151" href="#Footnote_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a></p>

<p>A few days after the arrival of the ship, “a
party of colonists went ashore to fell timber, to
saw, to rive, to carry, and prepare for the important<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span>
work of building; and that day every man
worked with a will, hopefully and heartily. A new
home, a pleasant refuge, future security, was the
aim of every one, and while each cheered the other,
the axes rang out in harmony with their hopes;
their strokes were as heavy as their hearts were
light. The crowned oaks of the forest did homage,
and yielded their riches to found the infant state.”
After sufficient timber had been secured for present
want, “many went to work on an adjacent hill<a id="FNanchor_152" href="#Footnote_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a> to
prepare fortifications; others measured the land,
and allotted the lots for building.”<a id="FNanchor_153" href="#Footnote_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a></p>

<p>The houses were ranged in a double row along
one street;<a id="FNanchor_154" href="#Footnote_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a> and for economic reasons the community
was divided into nineteen families, an arrangement
which necessitated fewer buildings and less
outlay.<a id="FNanchor_155" href="#Footnote_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a> Yet despite the energetic labors of the
settlers, they made haste slowly. At that inclement
season it was almost impossible to build.
Happily the weather was moderate for December;<a id="FNanchor_156" href="#Footnote_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a>
but rain fell incessantly, which was disastrous to
the health of men already wasting away under consumptions
and lung-fevers.<a id="FNanchor_157" href="#Footnote_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a> It was remembered
that “a green Christmas makes a fat church-yard.”</p>

<p>The Pilgrims were well satisfied with the site of
their settlement, hard and sterile as it was. Indeed,
they had a devout habit of looking on the
good, rather than the evil of events, and this made<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span>
even their crosses easier to be borne. “This harbor,”
they said, “is a bay greater than Cape Cod,
compassed with goodly land; and in the bay are
two fine islands,<a id="FNanchor_158" href="#Footnote_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a> uninhabited, wherein are nothing
but woods, oaks, pines, walnuts, beech, sassafras,
vines, and other trees which we know not.
The bay is a most hopeful place, and has innumerable
store of fowl and excellent food; it cannot but
contain fish in their seasons; skate, cod, turbot,
and herring, we have tasted of. Here is abundance
of muscles, the greatest and best we ever saw, also
crabs and lobsters in their time, infinite. The place
is in fashion like a sickle or fish-hook. The land
for the crust of the earth is a spit’s depth, excellent
black mould, and fat in many places; and vines are
everywhere, and cherry-trees, plum-trees, and many
others whose names we know not. Many kinds of
herbs we find in winter hereabouts, as strawberry-leaves
innumerable, sorrel, yarrow, carrot, brook-lime,
liverwort, water-cresses, great store of leeks,
and an excellent strong kind of flax or hemp. Here
is sand, gravel, an excellent clay, no better in the
world, exceeding good for pots, and it will wash
like soap; we have the best water that ever we
drank, and the brooks will soon be full of fish.”<a id="FNanchor_159" href="#Footnote_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a></p>

<p>So runs the journal of the Pilgrims. Hopeful
and thankful for what they had, they seemed anxious
to be pleased, and to make the best even of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span>
their ills. It was in no sour and bitter spirit that
they</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Leaned their cheeks against the thick-ribbed ice,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And looked up with devout eyes to Him</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Who bade them bloom, unblanched, amid the waste</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of desolation.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>After all, perhaps it was well even for their present
safety that they had landed on the bleak New
England strand. “Had they been carried, according
to their desire, unto Hudson’s river,” says Cotton
Mather, “the Indians in those parts were at
this time so many and so mighty and so sturdy,
that in probability all this feeble number of Christians
had been massacred by the bloody savages,
as not long after some others were; whereas the
good hand of God now brought them to a country
wonderfully prepared for their entertainment by a
sweeping mortality that had lately been among the
natives. ‘We have heard with our ears, O God,
our fathers have told us, what work thou didst in
their days, in the times of old; how thou dravest
out the heathen with thy hand, and plantedst
them; how thou didst afflict the people, and cast
them out.’ The Indians in these parts had newly,
even about a year or two before, been visited with
such a prodigious pestilence, as carried away not a
tenth, but nine parts of ten; yea, ’tis said, nineteen
of twenty among them; so that the woods were
almost cleared to make room for a better growth.</p>

<p>“It is remarkable that a Frenchman, who, not
long before the Pilgrim settlement, had by a shipwreck<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span>
been made captive among the Indians of
New England, did, as the survivors report, just before
he died in their hands, tell these tawny pagans
that ‘God, being angry with them for their wickedness,
would not only destroy them all, but also people
the place with another nation, which would not
live after their brutish manner.’ Those infidels
then blasphemously said, ‘God could not kill them,’
which was confuted by a horrible and unusual
plague, whereby they were consumed in such vast
multitudes, that our first ancestors found the land
almost covered with their unburied carcasses; and
they that were alive were smitten into awful and
humble regard of the English by the terrors which
the remembrance of the Frenchman’s prophecy had
imprinted on them.”<a id="FNanchor_160" href="#Footnote_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a></p>

<p>During the first few months of their wilderness
life, little occurred of special public interest among
the Pilgrims. The routine of their days was undisturbed.
Engrossed by the pressing present duties
of the hour, they labored to complete their preparations
for the winter. Their existence was that
which is common in all pioneer settlements, which
has been led a thousand times since on our western
prairies, and which is led to-day by the settler
who rears his log-cabin under the shadow of the
Rocky mountains.</p>

<p>The country seemed lonely and monotonous.<a id="FNanchor_161" href="#Footnote_161" class="fnanchor">[161]</a>
“Among the few recorded incidents,” says Elliot,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span>
“we gather here and there some facts which serve
to illustrate the social and moral condition of the
exiles during these initial months of their western
life. On the 21st of January, 1621, they celebrated
public worship for the first time on shore. On the
17th of February, Standish was chosen captain, and
all were arranged in military orders. This may be
called their first legislative act, the first communal
life of men who believed in and were forced to act
out the principle of self-government; every man
could vote, and the ballot of the lowest colonist
counted the same as Governor Carver’s. Births
and deaths varied the monotony of existence. Peregrine
White, the first born in New England, had
appeared in November, and six persons had died in
December, among whom was Dorothy, Bradford’s
wife, who was drowned. This was the beginning
of a mortality which carried dismay and destruction
into the weakened ranks.”<a id="FNanchor_162" href="#Footnote_162" class="fnanchor">[162]</a></p>

<p>Measures were taken for the military protection
of the colony. “A minion, a saker, and two other
guns, were mounted on Fort Hill,” where a block-citadel
had been erected.<a id="FNanchor_163" href="#Footnote_163" class="fnanchor">[163]</a> Standish was the <em>beau
ideal</em> of a soldier—alert, provident, tireless. The
words which Longfellow has put into his mouth
exhibit his genial humor and quaint wisdom:</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“‘Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">So I take care of my arms, as scribes of their pens and their ink-horns.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span>
    <div class="verse indent0">Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And, like Cæsar, I know the name of each of my soldiers.’</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.”<a id="FNanchor_164" href="#Footnote_164" class="fnanchor">[164]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p>The peculiar situation of the Pilgrims tended to
increase that rugged individuality, that self-confident
earnestness, that somewhat dogmatic vigor,
which already characterized them, and which is
still a salient trait of their descendants. There
they stood on a bleak and desolate shore; bereaved
of sympathy at home, without friends in the
wilderness, “with none to show them kindness or
to bid them welcome.” The nearest French settlement
was at Port Royal; it was five hundred miles
and more of trackless forest to the English plantation
of Virginia.<a id="FNanchor_165" href="#Footnote_165" class="fnanchor">[165]</a> The exiles were obliged to be
self-centred; cut off from the outer world and isolated,
they could entertain no friends but God and
each other.</p>

<p>We can hardly be sufficiently thankful for the
singular combination of circumstances which produced
the Plymouth settlement in 1620. “Had
New England been colonized immediately on the
discovery of the American continent, the old English
institutions would have been planted under the
powerful influence of the Roman religion; had the
settlement been made under Elizabeth, it would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span>
have been before activity of the public mind in
religion had conducted to a corresponding activity of
mind in politics.” God builded better than men
knew; and when the time was ripe, he chose “the
Pilgrims, Englishmen, Protestants, exiles for religion,
men disciplined by misfortune, cultivated by
opportunities of extensive observation, equal in rank
as in rights, bound by no code but that of religion
and the public will,”<a id="FNanchor_166" href="#Footnote_166" class="fnanchor">[166]</a> and with these elements He
planted a model state, and bade it grow into a democratic,
Christian commonwealth, that it might be
at once an exemplar and a benefactor to mankind.</p>

<p>The Pilgrims cheerfully accepted peril and discomfort
to build such a state. Peace under liberty—<i lang="la">sub
libertate quietem</i>—this was their aspiration, and
they said,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“We ask a shrine for faith and simple prayer,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Freedom’s sweet waters, and untainted air.”<a id="FNanchor_167" href="#Footnote_167" class="fnanchor">[167]</a></div>
</div>
</div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br>
<span class="fs80">PIONEER LIFE.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent5">“E’en the best must own,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Patience and resignation are the pillars</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of human peace on earth.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent20"><span class="smcap">Young</span>, <cite>Night Thoughts</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>Happily, God blessed the Pilgrims with an
early and mild spring.<a id="FNanchor_168" href="#Footnote_168" class="fnanchor">[168]</a> By the middle of March
the birds began to sing; the streams shook off
their icy cerements; the rills ran laughing to the
sea; Nature put on her gala drapery; the myriad
wild-flowers opened their drowsy eyes; the time
had come for the ever-marvellous resurrection of
the year. The forests seemed instinct with life.
On every hill-side nature hymned her praise.</p>

<p>The settlers shared in the buoyant and joyous
feeling. They had met and mastered the New
England winter. Their houses were built. Their
family arrangements were completed; and now
“the fair, warm days” of spring, the idyl of the
year, were a harbinger of hope.</p>

<p>Careful and provident, the Pilgrims improved
this delightful weather in planting. “On the 19th
and 20th of March,” says the old chronicler, “we
digged our grounds and sowed our garden-seed.”<a id="FNanchor_169" href="#Footnote_169" class="fnanchor">[169]</a>
This done, individual members of the community<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span>
began to stray into the bordering forest, incited
thereto partly by natural curiosity to familiarize
themselves with the salient local features of their
wilderness homes, and partly by the pursuit of
game. Sometimes the tyro hunters were startled
by strange sights and noises; for to them the dim,
still woods were a mystery. “John Goodman was
much frightened this day”—so runs the entry in
the Journal on one occasion—“he went abroad
for a little walk with his spaniel. Suddenly two
great wolves ran after the dog, which ran to him
and betwixt his legs for succor. He, having nothing
with him, threw a stick at one of them, and hit
him, and they presently both ran away; but they
came again. He got a plain board in his hand, and
they sat both on their tails grinning at him a good
time. At last they went their way and left him.
He could not move fast, as he had lame feet.”<a id="FNanchor_170" href="#Footnote_170" class="fnanchor">[170]</a></p>

<p>On another occasion a storm is recorded: “At
one o’clock it thundered. The birds sang most
pleasantly before this. The thunder was strong,
and in great claps, followed by rain very sadly till
midnight.”<a id="FNanchor_171" href="#Footnote_171" class="fnanchor">[171]</a></p>

<p>Thus far they had seen no Indians since landing
at Plymouth. Traces of them abounded. Pale
wreaths of smoke, which curled above the forest-trees,
gave certain token that they lurked in the
vicinity. The settlers knew that they must ere long
meet the aborigines, and they awaited the event
with mingled hope and apprehension.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span></p>

<p>On the 16th of March, one of the warmest, pleasantest
days of the early spring, a number of the
Pilgrims—Bradford, Winslow, Hopkins, and Carver,
among the rest—were gathered on the skirts of
the settlement, chatting over their plans and projects
for the coming days, when suddenly a guttural
shout was heard, and the words “<em>Welcome, Englishmen!</em>”
spoken in broken Saxon, fell on their ears.<a id="FNanchor_172" href="#Footnote_172" class="fnanchor">[172]</a></p>

<p>The astonished settlers started to their feet, and
glancing in the direction whence the words had
seemed to come, discerned on the edge of the forest
a single dusky figure, waving a hand and advancing
boldly towards them. In deep silence the Pilgrims
awaited his approach. On reaching the group, the
Indian greeted them warmly, repeating his welcome.
Reassured by his friendly gestures and hearty repetition
of the familiar English phrase in which only
kindness lurked, the settlers cordially returned his
greeting; and knowing that the way to the heart
lies through the stomach, they at once gave their
dusky guest “strong water, biscuit, butter, cheese,
and some pudding, with a piece of mallard.”<a id="FNanchor_173" href="#Footnote_173" class="fnanchor">[173]</a></p>

<p>The heart of the savage was gained; the taciturnity
characteristic of his race gave way, and he
told his entertainers many things which they had
long desired to know.</p>

<p>They ascertained that he was a chief of a tribe
of Indians whose hunting-grounds were distant five
days’ journey; that the country in their vicinity was
called Pawtuxet; that some years previous a pestilence<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span>
had swept off the tribes that inhabited the
district, so that none remained to claim the soil.</p>

<p>When asked how he came to speak English, he
replied that he had picked up what little he knew
from the fishermen who frequented the coast of
Maine. In response to inquiries concerning the
interior of the country and the tribes inhabiting
the inland plateaus, he imparted valuable information.<a id="FNanchor_174" href="#Footnote_174" class="fnanchor">[174]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims gleaned these facts from his recital:
A sagamore named Massasoit was their nearest
powerful neighbor. He was disposed to be friendly;
but another tribe, called the Nausets, were greatly
incensed against the English, and with sufficient
cause. It seems that a captain by the name of
Hunt, who had been left in charge of a vessel by
Captain Smith in 1614, had lured twenty or thirty
of their brother red men on board his ship on pretence
of trading; then, when they accepted his invitation,
he set sail for Spain, where he sold his victims
into slavery.<a id="FNanchor_175" href="#Footnote_175" class="fnanchor">[175]</a></p>

<p>The whole Nauset tribe panted to avenge the
atrocious treachery of “this wretched man, who
cared not what mischief he did for his profit;” and
it was with them that the Pilgrims had had their
skirmish when exploring the coast in the December
sleet.<a id="FNanchor_176" href="#Footnote_176" class="fnanchor">[176]</a></p>

<p>The Indian from whose broken English these
things were learned was Samoset. He was the first
of the aborigines who held friendly and intelligent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span>
intercourse with the forefathers. His frank, hearty
“welcome” was the only one the Pilgrims received;
and his faithful, life-long attachment to the English
interests, which “made him often go, in danger of
his life, among his countrymen,” won the grateful
recognition of the exiles, and deserves the plaudits
of posterity.</p>

<p>Samoset was the first Indian whom many of the
Pilgrims had ever seen. He was therefore scanned
with no little curiosity. He is thus described
in the Journal of the Pilgrims: “He was a man
free in speech; a tall, straight man; the hair of his
head black, long behind, short before, and no beard.
He was stark naked, save only a strip of leather
about his waist, with a fringe a span long or a little
more. He had a bow and two arrows, the one
headed, the other not.”<a id="FNanchor_177" href="#Footnote_177" class="fnanchor">[177]</a></p>

<p>The settlers treated Samoset with great hospitality,
as duty and sound policy alike demanded.
Nevertheless, when night came they desired him to
leave. This he seemed loath to do. They proposed
that he should lodge on board the “Mayflower.”
He assented; but the tide was so low and the wind
was so fresh, that the shallop could not gain the
vessel’s side. Nothing remained but to entertain
their guest on shore. He was conducted to the
house of Stephen Hopkins,<a id="FNanchor_178" href="#Footnote_178" class="fnanchor">[178]</a> and was stealthily
watched, “as we feared evil,” comments the narrator;
“which, however, did not come.”<a id="FNanchor_179" href="#Footnote_179" class="fnanchor">[179]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span></p>

<p>On the following morning, Samoset quitted Plymouth,
carrying with him a variety of presents, a knife,
a bracelet, a ring; and he promised to return soon
and bring with him some of Massasoit’s Indians, to
open a trade in furs with the colonists.<a id="FNanchor_180" href="#Footnote_180" class="fnanchor">[180]</a> He also
said that he would do his utmost towards securing
an interview between the English and the Indian
sagamore, as preliminary to a lasting treaty and a
prosperous peace.<a id="FNanchor_181" href="#Footnote_181" class="fnanchor">[181]</a></p>

<p>Samoset, true to his promise, did indeed return
within three days, bringing with him five companions.
All were cordially welcomed; but as it was Sunday,
no business was transacted, the guests being
dismissed as early as possible. Samoset remained at
Plymouth; his friends affirmed their purpose to come
again on the morrow. The morrow came but the
Indians did not. Samoset was sent in quest of
them. The next day he returned again, this time
with four other warriors, each provided with a few
skins and dried herrings, which they were anxious
to barter.</p>

<p>One of these Indians was named Squanto. His
history was somewhat romantic. He belonged to
the company kidnapped by Hunt and sold in
Spain. There he, with the others, had been liberated
through the exertions of the monks of Malaga,
and he had made his way to England. He dwelt
in Cornhill, London, with an English merchant, for
some time; and thence he had finally made his
way back to his forest home, to be, as the event<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span>
proved, a valuable friend, interpreter, and ally to
the whites.<a id="FNanchor_182" href="#Footnote_182" class="fnanchor">[182]</a></p>

<p>Samoset and his friends were but the advance
guard of a larger host. An hour later, Massasoit
himself appeared on a neighboring slope, accompanied
by his brother, Quadequina, and a cloud of
warriors. At the outset both Englishman and Indian
were shy of each other; but at last, after much
passing to and fro, they came to parley. Massasoit
and Standish saluted each other; after which the
soldier conducted the sachem to an unfinished house
in the vicinage, where he laid for his guest a green
rug and four cushions.<a id="FNanchor_183" href="#Footnote_183" class="fnanchor">[183]</a></p>

<p>Presently the Pilgrim governor advanced, in as
great state as he could command, with beat of drum
and blare of trumpet, and a squad of armed men
as a body-guard. Salutations, which consisted of
mutual kisses, being over, the governor and the sagamore
seated themselves. Meat was then served,
and the new friends drank to each other’s health
and happiness.<a id="FNanchor_184" href="#Footnote_184" class="fnanchor">[184]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span></p>

<p>Negotiations ensued; and “a treaty of friendship
was soon completed in few and unequivocal terms.
The respective parties promised to abstain from
mutual injuries, and to deliver up offenders; the
colonists were to receive assistance if attacked; to
render it, if Massasoit should be assailed unjustly.
The treaty included the confederates of the sachem:
it is the oldest act of diplomacy recorded in New
England; it was concluded in a day, and, being
founded on reciprocal interests, was sacredly kept
for more than half a century. Massasoit desired
the alliance, for the powerful Narragansetts were
his enemies; his tribe, moreover, having become
habituated to some English luxuries, were willing
to establish a traffic; while the emigrants obtained
peace, security, and the opportunity of a lucrative
commerce.”<a id="FNanchor_185" href="#Footnote_185" class="fnanchor">[185]</a></p>

<p>Massasoit is thus described by the Pilgrim journalist:
“In his person he is a very lusty man, in
his best years, an able body, grave of countenance,
and spare of speech; in his attire little or nothing
differing from the rest of his followers, save only in
a great chain of white beads about his neck; behind
his neck, attached to the chain, hangs a
pouch of tobacco, which he smoked, and gave us
to smoke. His face was painted with a seal red,
and he was oiled both head and face that he looked
greasily.”<a id="FNanchor_186" href="#Footnote_186" class="fnanchor">[186]</a></p>

<p>The sagamore’s favorite haunts were along the
northern shores of Narragansett Bay, between<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span>
Taunton and Providence, one of his principal seats
being Mount Hope,<a id="FNanchor_187" href="#Footnote_187" class="fnanchor">[187]</a> that</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">——“throne of royal state, which far</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Ind,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Or where the gorgeous east, with richest hand,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Showers on her kings barbaric pomp and gold.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>In the latter part of March, 1621, an event occurred
which evinced alike the promptitude and the
decision of the self-governed Puritan colony. It has
been said that “God sifted three kingdoms to get
the Pilgrim wheat” of the New England enterprise;
yet despite this care the chaff was not all gotten
rid of. It seems that one John Billington, a “lewd
fellow of the baser sort,” had come from London
and smuggled himself on board the “Mayflower,”
for the purpose of stealing a voyage to the new
world. He had no sympathy with the religious feelings
of the Pilgrims, nor did he share their love of
order and civil liberty.<a id="FNanchor_188" href="#Footnote_188" class="fnanchor">[188]</a> He had frequently given
offence, and now he was convicted of “contempt of
the captain’s lawful command, and of making <ins class="corr" id="tn-106" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'opprobious speeches'">
opprobrious speeches</ins>.”<a id="FNanchor_189" href="#Footnote_189" class="fnanchor">[189]</a> His sentence was peculiar:
“he was to have his neck and heels tied together.”<a id="FNanchor_190" href="#Footnote_190" class="fnanchor">[190]</a>
He begged so hard that he was forgiven on this occasion;
but he continued to be a profane, ungovernable,
vicious knave, and finally came to a bad
end.</p>

<p>At about this same time another offence was
committed against the civil peace of the colony.
Two servants of Stephen Hopkins met and fought<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span>
a duel with sword and dagger. Both combatants
were wounded; but they were immediately seized,
convicted, and sentenced “to have their head and
feet tied together, and so to lie for twenty-four hours
without meat or drink.”<a id="FNanchor_191" href="#Footnote_191" class="fnanchor">[191]</a></p>

<p>The hostile lackeys were bound, in exact accordance
with the verdict; but “after lying an
hour they begged piteously for mercy; whereon the
governor, on the entreaty of their master, released
them, they promising to keep the peace in future.”<a id="FNanchor_192" href="#Footnote_192" class="fnanchor">[192]</a></p>

<p>These sentences convinced the refractory that
the colonial government was something more than
the shadow of a name; and it held them in awe
of provoking its severity.</p>

<p>Through all these months disease was busy
among the Pilgrims. But though pain racked many
a weakened form, no one spoke of returning to England.
As winter faded into spring the mortality
became dreadful. Every house was a hospital.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“There was no hearthstone, howsoe’er defended,</div>
    <div class="verse indent3">But had one vacant chair.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>“Death,” says Elliot, “had reaped a ripe, fat
harvest, and of the one hundred scarce fifty remained.
Six had died in December; eight in January;
seventeen in February; thirteen in March.”<a id="FNanchor_193" href="#Footnote_193" class="fnanchor">[193]</a>
Yet the Pilgrims kissed the rod; and though “the
searching sharpness of that pure climate had
crept into the crevices of their crazed bodies, causing
death,”<a id="FNanchor_194" href="#Footnote_194" class="fnanchor">[194]</a> they said “the Lord gave and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span>
Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the
Lord.”</p>

<p>The dead were buried in a bank, at a little distance
from Plymouth rock; and lest the Indians
should learn the weakened condition of the colony,
the graves were levelled, and sown with grass.<a id="FNanchor_195" href="#Footnote_195" class="fnanchor">[195]</a>
Over these the unflinching survivors locked hands,
and wiping their eyes, looked up, firm, devout, hopeful
as ever.</p>

<p>In April, 1621, Governor Carver died. “Whilst
they were busy about their seed, he came out of the
field very sick, it being a hot day. He complained
greatly of his head, and lay down; within a few
hours his senses failed, and he never spoke more.
His death was much lamented, and caused great
heaviness, as there was cause.”<a id="FNanchor_196" href="#Footnote_196" class="fnanchor">[196]</a> Shortly after,
William Bradford, the historian of the colony, was
elected governor, “and being not yet recovered from
a severe illness, in which he had been near the point
of death, Isaac Allerton was chosen to be an assistant
unto him.”<a id="FNanchor_197" href="#Footnote_197" class="fnanchor">[197]</a></p>

<p>On the very day of Carver’s death, the 5th of
April, the “Mayflower” sailed for England.<a id="FNanchor_198" href="#Footnote_198" class="fnanchor">[198]</a> Not
a soul returned in her of that devoted band. It has
been well said that the departure of the “Mayflower”
surpasses in dignity, though not in desperation,
the burning of his ships by Cortez. Through
the struggles of the winter she had always been in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span>
sight, a place of refuge and relief in any desperate
emergency. While the good ship lay moored in
Plymouth harbor, they had a hold upon the outer
world. But now, as grouped upon the shore they
stood and watched her, as she slowly spread her
sails and crept out of the bay and from their sight,
they felt inexpressibly dreary and bereaved: when
the sun set in the western forest, the “Mayflower”
had disappeared in the distant blue.<a id="FNanchor_199" href="#Footnote_199" class="fnanchor">[199]</a></p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent14">“Can ye scan the woe</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">That wrings their bosoms, as this last frail link</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Binding to man and habitable earth</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Is severed? Can ye tell what pangs were there,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">What keen regrets, what sickness of the heart,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">What yearning o’er their forfeit land of birth;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Their distant dear ones?”<a id="FNanchor_200" href="#Footnote_200" class="fnanchor">[200]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p>But they did not long despair. “The sky was
not inky, nor their future desperate,” says Elliot;
“the sun still shone gloriously; the moon still bathed
the earth with light; and the stars kept their ceaseless
vigils. Spring here, as of old, followed winter,
the murmuring of streams was heard, and the song
of the turtle; birds builded their nests, the tender
grass sprang up under their feet, and the trees budded
and burst forth in wondrous beauty. God was
over all—God, their God, their Friend—their protector
here as in the older world; nay, more their
helper now than ever before,”<a id="FNanchor_201" href="#Footnote_201" class="fnanchor">[201]</a> for they were the
orphans of humanity.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE FIRST SUMMER IN NEW ENGLAND.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“The spring’s gay promise melted into thee,</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">Fair summer; and thy gentle reign is here;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Thy emerald robes are on each leafy tree;</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">In the blue sky thy voice is rich and clear;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And the free brooks have songs to bless thy reign—</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">They leap in music ’midst thy bright domain.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent28"><span class="smcap">Willis G. Clark.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>God has transmuted the primal curse into a
blessing. Labor is a panacea for many ills; and
now the fullness of their new life crowded out homesickness
and all fainting of the heart among the Pilgrim
exiles. They had no time for dreams. The
weighty cares of the present exorcised every fevered
phantom of regret and apprehension.</p>

<p>Swiftly and pleasantly in the manifold employments
of the field passed the glowing, pregnant
spring. The exiles knew that they were set to subdue
the wilderness, to marry the continent with
roads, to dot the forests with schools and churches
and hamlets. Daily and nightly they invoked God’s
blessing on their infant colony; and with God’s kiss
upon their brows, they toiled in the full assurance
of success—they knew that hope would be changed
to full fruition.</p>

<p>Thus far they had experienced no lack of food.
The variety afforded by wild fowl, fish, and the native<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span>
fruits, together with the stores which they had
brought with them in the “Mayflower,” amply sufficed
to supply the cravings of hunger.<a id="FNanchor_202" href="#Footnote_202" class="fnanchor">[202]</a> For the
future the presage was good. The crops promised
well. Six acres had been sown with pease and barley.
Twenty acres had been planted with the seed-corn
which it had been the good fortune of the
exiles to dig out of the subterranean Indian storehouses;<a id="FNanchor_203" href="#Footnote_203" class="fnanchor">[203]</a>
this Squanto, the friendly Indian interpreter,
had instructed them how <ins class="corr" id="tn-111" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'to sow and hill'">
to sow and till</ins> and manure with fish.<a id="FNanchor_204" href="#Footnote_204" class="fnanchor">[204]</a></p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Like the swell of some sweet tune,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Morning rises into noon,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">May glides onward into June;”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">and as the season advanced, native grapes and
berries were found in endless variety and inexhaustible
abundance. The Pilgrim journalist also
records that wild-flowers of various hues and “very
sweet” fragrance contributed their beauty and incense
to the charming summer scene.<a id="FNanchor_205" href="#Footnote_205" class="fnanchor">[205]</a></p>

<p>“A visitor to Plymouth, in this first summer of
the Puritan settlement, as he landed on the southern
side of a high bluff, would have seen, standing
between it and a rapid little stream, a rude log-house,
twenty feet square, containing the common
property of the plantation. Proceeding up a gentle
acclivity between two rows of log-cabins, nineteen
in number, some of them perhaps vacant since the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span>
death of their first tenants, he would have come to
a hill, encircled by a plank platform for cannon.
And glancing thence over the landscape, he might
have counted twenty men at work with hoes in the
enclosures about the huts, or fishing in the shallow
harbor, or visiting the woods or the beach for game;
while six or eight women were busy in household
affairs, and some twenty children, from infancy upward,
completed the domestic picture.”<a id="FNanchor_206" href="#Footnote_206" class="fnanchor">[206]</a></p>

<p>The month of June found the colonists so far
advanced in the necessary labors of the season,
that they gained a little leisure to open the volume
of local nature, and to scan its pages more accurately
than had been possible in the haste of the
initial December days.</p>

<p>Many a lesson was taken by the wondering settlers
in New England forestry under the skilful
tuition of Squanto or Samoset. “Once,” says the
quaint old record, “a party of us got belated in the
forest, where the night was spent; in the morning,
wandering from the track, we were shrewdly puzzled,
and lost the way. As we wandered, we came
to a tree, where a young sprit was bowed down over
a bow, and some acorns strewed underneath; Stephen
Hopkins said it had been fixed to catch deer;
so as we were looking at it, William Bradford being
in the rear, when he came up looked also upon it,
and as he went about, it gave a sudden jerk up, so
that he was immediately caught fast by the leg.
It was a very pretty device, made with a rope of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span>
their own making, and having a noose as artificially
fixed as any roper in England could make, and as
like ours as can be: this we brought away with
us.”<a id="FNanchor_207" href="#Footnote_207" class="fnanchor">[207]</a> This was a pleasant jest to the hunters, in
which the gravest of them doubtless indulged in a
laugh at their too curious governor, thus caught in
the Indian deer-trap. The hint, however, was well
worth their study; and often afterwards it served
them a good turn, ere their ringing axes frightened
the timid deer into following the dusky native hunters
beyond the encroaching and ever-widening circle
of civilization.</p>

<p>To increase the general stock of information,
and to relieve the routine <em>tedium</em> of the settlement,
several expeditions were planned during this first
summer; and these looked into the continent a few
miles distant in the east, the north, and the west.<a id="FNanchor_208" href="#Footnote_208" class="fnanchor">[208]</a></p>

<p>The first of them took the shape of an embassy
to Massasoit. As the warm weather brought the
Indians to the sea-shore in search of lobsters and
to fish, they proved to be a sad annoyance to the
colonists. They were treated with uniform courtesy,
and this kindness furnished a motive for frequent
visits, so that men, women, and children, were
always hanging about the village, clamorous for
food and pertinaciously inquisitive. It was partly
to abate this nuisance, and “partly,” says the old
chronicle, “to know where to find our savage allies,
if occasion served, as also to see their strength, explore
the country, make satisfaction for some injuries<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span>
conceived to have been done on our parts, and
to continue the league of peace and friendship between
them and us,”<a id="FNanchor_209" href="#Footnote_209" class="fnanchor">[209]</a> that Stephen Hopkins and
Edward Winslow were now delegated to wait upon
the friendly sagamore in his forest home.</p>

<p>In July, 1621, these earliest negotiators of New
England set out upon their mission, “not with the
pomp of modern diplomats, but through the forest
and on foot, to be received, not to the luxuries of
courts, but to share in the abstinence of savage
life.” Marks of the devastation caused by the pestilence
which had preceded their settlement, of
“the arrows that flew by night,” were visible wherever
the envoys went, and they witnessed the extreme
poverty and feebleness of the aborigines.<a id="FNanchor_210" href="#Footnote_210" class="fnanchor">[210]</a></p>

<p>On, on pressed the Englishmen through the intricate
mazes of the woods, and they never ceased
to wonder at the ease and certainty with which
Squanto, who accompanied them as guide and interpreter,
picked out the right path from the labyrinthine
tracks.<a id="FNanchor_211" href="#Footnote_211" class="fnanchor">[211]</a> A walk of fifteen miles brought
them to an almost “deserted village,” called <em>Namasket</em>,
in what is now Middleborough, where the
few remaining natives received them with the most
gracious rites of Indian hospitality, and gave them
“a kind of bread,” and the spawn of shad boiled
with old acorns.<a id="FNanchor_212" href="#Footnote_212" class="fnanchor">[212]</a> Here they tarried for an hour in
the afternoon. Eight miles farther inland they bivouacked,
with the sky for a covering and the trees<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span>
for blankets. A number of Indians had assembled
at this place to fish, but these had erected no shelter.
Around them they discerned under the moonlight
the evident marks of former extensive cultivation.
“Thousands of men had lived there,” says
Winslow, the historian of the mission, “who died
in the great plague not long since.”<a id="FNanchor_213" href="#Footnote_213" class="fnanchor">[213]</a></p>

<p>In the morning, rising early, they resumed their
journey. Their retinue was swollen by six savages
who insisted upon bearing them company, and who
bore their arms and baggage. At the various fords
the friendly red men carried the Englishmen across
dry-shod upon their shoulders,<a id="FNanchor_214" href="#Footnote_214" class="fnanchor">[214]</a> a mark of unprecedented
complaisance when coming from the proverbially
lazy Indian of the northeast coast.</p>

<p>In due time the envoys reached Pokanoket, the
residence of Massasoit. The sachem was not at
home. Ere long, however, he returned. The Englishmen
received him royally, and saluted him by a
discharge of their muskets. Massasoit reciprocated
their greeting in true Indian style.<a id="FNanchor_215" href="#Footnote_215" class="fnanchor">[215]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims had been careful to provide their
envoys with a plentiful supply of those trinkets
which the red men so highly prized; and now, ere
any business was opened, these presents were delivered.
The sagamore was given “a horseman’s
coat of red cotton, decked with a slight fringe of
lace,” and a copper chain. When he had put on
this scarlet garment, and hung the chain about his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span>
neck, he seemed greatly pleased by his unwonted
bravery of attire, while his warriors appeared to be
equally gratified by the grand appearance of their
king.<a id="FNanchor_216" href="#Footnote_216" class="fnanchor">[216]</a></p>

<p>This ceremony completed, all squatted upon the
ground, a circle was formed, and amid deep silence
the pipe of peace was smoked, each individual
taking a whiff and then passing the pipe to his
next neighbor. After this—and it should seem
that even among the untamed children of the forest
there existed a “circumlocution office,” where
there was red tape to be cut—the envoys explained
the object of their visit. The sagamore listened
courteously to their recital, and was pleased to
grant each and all of their requests.</p>

<p>“To the end that we might know his messengers
from others,” writes Winslow, “we desired
Massasoit, if any one should come from him to us,
to send the copper chain, that we might know the
savage, and hearken and give credit to his message
accordingly.”<a id="FNanchor_217" href="#Footnote_217" class="fnanchor">[217]</a></p>

<p>The sagamore seemed well content to renew the
alliance with the English. He promised to promote
the traffic in skins, to furnish a supply of corn for
seed, and to ascertain the owners of the underground
granaries which the conscientious Pilgrims
had rifled in the preceding winter, and for which
they were anxious to make restitution.<a id="FNanchor_218" href="#Footnote_218" class="fnanchor">[218]</a> He also<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span>
warned his allies to beware of the Narragansetts, a
powerful and warlike tribe, inimical to him, seated
on the borders and in the vicinity of Narragansett
Bay.<a id="FNanchor_219" href="#Footnote_219" class="fnanchor">[219]</a> Massasoit said that the Narragansett warriors
had not been thinned by the pestilence, and
that they carried on an extensive trade with the
Dutchmen in the west.<a id="FNanchor_220" href="#Footnote_220" class="fnanchor">[220]</a></p>

<p>Having thus by skilful diplomacy reduced the
future political intercourse between the nascent
New England republic and the Indian sachem to
some degree of certainty and mutual confidence,
the ambassadors remained to partake of the hospitality
of the forest lords.</p>

<p>They did not think very highly of Massasoit’s
housekeeping. The brave sagamore chanced to be
out of provisions, so his guests were obliged to go
supperless. When they expressed a wish to sleep,
they were conducted into a wigwam, and, as a mark
of special honor, allowed to sleep in the same bed
with the sachem and his squaw—one end of a hard,
rude-looking bed, covered with a coarse, thin mat,
and raised three or four inches above <ins class="corr" id="tn-117" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'the earthern floor'">
the earthen floor</ins>, being assigned to them, while their Indian
majesties reposed at the other extremity.<a id="FNanchor_221" href="#Footnote_221" class="fnanchor">[221]</a> Like
other royal favors, this proved somewhat irksome
to the recipients, who had to complain of very
straitened accommodation, and record that they
“were worse weary of their lodgings than of their
journey.”<a id="FNanchor_222" href="#Footnote_222" class="fnanchor">[222]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span></p>

<p>The next day the colonial ambassadors had no
breakfast, but the morning was taken up in receiving
visitors—rumors of their presence having collected
several subordinate sachems to do them
honor and cement a friendship—and in witnessing
the Indian games, which had been gotten up for
their entertainment.<a id="FNanchor_223" href="#Footnote_223" class="fnanchor">[223]</a></p>

<p>About noon, Massasoit, who had gone hunting
at dawn, returned, bringing with him two fishes;
these were soon boiled and divided among forty
persons;<a id="FNanchor_224" href="#Footnote_224" class="fnanchor">[224]</a> this was the first meal taken by the envoys
for a day and two nights.<a id="FNanchor_225" href="#Footnote_225" class="fnanchor">[225]</a></p>

<p>Heartily sick of Indian entertainment, in the
gray dawn of the following day they set out for
Plymouth. The chief was sorry and ashamed that
he had been able to receive them in no better style;
but while friendship was in his heart, abundance
was not in his cabin.<a id="FNanchor_226" href="#Footnote_226" class="fnanchor">[226]</a> After a dismal and stormy
jaunt, they reached the welcome settlement on the
fifth day of their absence. Hard and uncouth as it
was, after their recent experience, it seemed to them
an elysium. So severe had been the hardships incident
to their mission, so faint and giddy were
they from hunger and want of sleep and over-exertion,
that several days’ repose was required to recruit
them back to health and strength.<a id="FNanchor_227" href="#Footnote_227" class="fnanchor">[227]</a></p>

<p>In the course of the excursion just happily<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span>
ended, the Pilgrims had acquired considerable
knowledge of their Indian neighbors—of their
habits, their motives of action, their social forms.
They saw that rivalry, and enmity begotten of rivalry,
stirred constant feuds among the tribes by
whom they were surrounded. The sight of a strange
Indian never failed to fill their dusky guides with
alarm and watchfulness; among the red men, in
the most literal sense, “eternal vigilance” was “the
price of liberty.”<a id="FNanchor_228" href="#Footnote_228" class="fnanchor">[228]</a></p>

<p>The first settlers of Plymouth generally dealt
honorably and amicably with their Indian allies,
more so than the later colonists of New England,
as the treaty with Massasoit, unbroken for fifty
years, amply proves. Trade was of course an object
with them; but it was not selfishly paramount.
This fair dealing begot in its turn corresponding
friendship and good feeling among the red men; it
put kindliness into their hearts at a time when a
revengeful temper might have led them to combine
and sweep the feeble handful of usurping interlopers,
weakened by disease and decimated by death,
into the Atlantic on whose verge they stood.</p>

<p>We can never be sufficiently thankful that God
moved both colonists and savages to cement so long
and fair a peace. Yet from the very outset the Indian
recognized the superiority of the white man;
he made a reluctant yet irrepressible obeisance to
civilization. Dryden has well expressed this innate
consciousness:</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span></p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Old prophecies foretell our fall at hand,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">When bearded men in floating castles land.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>The sagamore, as he gazed on the Plymouth
settlement, stood grief-stricken to think that his
lease of ages of the forests approached its end.
He seemed to see in the recent plague a grant of
the land to another race, engrossed by the hand of
the Great Spirit himself. That rifled burial-mound
of the Wampanoags, in which the Pilgrims found
their seed-corn, was typical; it was the new tenant
entering upon the estate, taking possession in the
name of God, and for the common good. Yet</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent6">“Who shall deem the spot unblessed</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Where Nature’s younger children rest,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Lulled on their sorrowing mother’s breast?</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Deem ye that mother loveth less</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">These bronzed forms of the wilderness</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">She foldeth in her long caress?</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">As sweet o’er them her wild-flowers blow,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">As if with fairer hair and brow</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The blue-eyed Saxon slept below.”<a id="FNanchor_229" href="#Footnote_229" class="fnanchor">[229]</a></div>
</div>
</div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br>
<span class="fs80">IN THE WOODS.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Actions rare and sudden, do commonly</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Proceed from fierce necessity.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent21"><span class="smcap">Sir William Davenant.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>Two or three days after the return of Winslow
and Hopkins from Massasoit’s forest rendezvous,
the routine life of the colonists was broken by the
sudden disappearance of one of the younger members
of the Plymouth commonwealth. John Billington
was nowhere to be found. Though he was
a vicious lad, the pest of the colony, his absence
caused great anxiety. Whither had he gone? Was
he drowned? Had he been kidnapped? Had he
wandered away and lost his course in the tangled
cross-paths of the forest?</p>

<p>Though the season, already declining towards
autumn, called for the active labor of the settlers,
the supposed peril of the lost boy swallowed up all
other considerations, and a squad of ten men was
recruited to go in search of him.<a id="FNanchor_230" href="#Footnote_230" class="fnanchor">[230]</a> The clumsy
shallop was rigged, and, led by Standish, all embarked.
They had not sailed far ere a sudden
squall, accompanied by a severe thunderstorm, peculiar
to the season and the latitude, struck them,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span>
as it were, with clenched fists. A water-spout, the
first they had ever seen, flung up the hissing sea to
a sheer height of fifty feet within a stone’s toss of
the shallop, already half capsized.<a id="FNanchor_231" href="#Footnote_231" class="fnanchor">[231]</a> Drenched and
weary, they landed in Cummaquid, now Barnstable
harbor, where they bivouacked.<a id="FNanchor_232" href="#Footnote_232" class="fnanchor">[232]</a> Here an Indian
runner, despatched by Massasoit, met them, and
said that the lad they sought might be found at
Nauset, some miles farther down the coast. In
the morning, as they were about to embark, they
espied two Indians, strangers, whom they hailed.
Squanto and another friendly sachem named Tokamahamon
were with the scouting party, and they
now acted as interpreters. These natives corroborated
Massasoit’s report of the whereabouts of
young Billington; and at their invitation, six of
the Englishmen accompanied them to an interview
with their chief, Iyanough, who lurked in the vicinity.
When they met the sagamore, they found him
to be a handsome man, in the May of youth, courteous
in his manners, and unlike an Indian save
in his costume.<a id="FNanchor_233" href="#Footnote_233" class="fnanchor">[233]</a> The entertainment to which he
invited his pale-face guests was in harmony with
his decorous appearance, being various and abundant.<a id="FNanchor_234" href="#Footnote_234" class="fnanchor">[234]</a></p>

<p>While they were feasting, they saw an old, withered
squaw, who seemed bowed down beneath the
weight of a hundred years, hobbling eagerly towards<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span>
the spot of green sward where they reclined.
She had never seen an Englishman, and was naturally
curious to gaze upon the pale-face strangers.
On reaching their vicinage she became intensely
excited, and commenced to howl and rave and
weep, pausing between each sob to curse her chieftain’s
guests. The Pilgrims were astonished. They
asked why the old squaw cried and cursed, and
were told that Hunt had kidnapped three of her
sons, at the same time that he had carried Squanto
into Spanish servitude. They told the old squaw,
through an interpreter, that Hunt was a bad man,
condemned by all good Englishmen; said that they
would not do so wicked an act for all the skins in
New England; and to convince her of their sincerity,
gave her some trinkets, which served to placate
her exuberant wrath.<a id="FNanchor_235" href="#Footnote_235" class="fnanchor">[235]</a></p>

<p>Taking a friendly leave of Iyanough, the Pilgrims
returned to the shallop, and at once set sail
for Nauset, the Indian name of what is now the
pleasant village of Eastham. On their arrival, the
shallop was surrounded by a swarm of natives, who
greatly annoyed them by their officious offers of
assistance.<a id="FNanchor_236" href="#Footnote_236" class="fnanchor">[236]</a> Standish was impelled to keep on the
alert by the remembrance that this tribe was the
one which had assailed the English coasting party
in December, 1620.<a id="FNanchor_237" href="#Footnote_237" class="fnanchor">[237]</a> Among these savages the
Pilgrims found the long-sought owner of the corn
which they had taken from the burial-mound; he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span>
was invited to visit Plymouth, where he was promised
ample payment.<a id="FNanchor_238" href="#Footnote_238" class="fnanchor">[238]</a></p>

<p>Towards evening, a sagamore <ins class="corr" id="tn-124" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'named Aspiret'">
named Aspinet</ins> came to them, bringing with him the lost lad. He
had wandered over the hills and through the woods
for five days, living upon the berries and wild fruit
of the season. Finally he reached an Indian village
at Menomet, where Sandwich is now located;
and here the Indians had sent him to the Nausets,
among whom he was now found.<a id="FNanchor_239" href="#Footnote_239" class="fnanchor">[239]</a></p>

<p>The boy was decked out in the tawdry Indian
style when Aspinet delivered him to the settlers,
and several pounds of beads hung suspended from
his neck.<a id="FNanchor_240" href="#Footnote_240" class="fnanchor">[240]</a></p>

<p>Standish rewarded the sachem for his care of
the boy; he also distributed some presents among
his tribe. Here a rumor of war between the Narragansetts
and Massasoit reached them; and Aspinet
also said that the great sagamore had been
captured by his vengeful foemen.<a id="FNanchor_241" href="#Footnote_241" class="fnanchor">[241]</a> Apprehensive
for the welfare of the colony, and conscious that
they ought to render Massasoit assistance in case
he had been unjustly attacked, the Englishmen
<ins class="corr" id="tn-124a" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'bade Aspiret a hasty'">
bade Aspinet a hasty</ins> but cordial farewell, and instantly
reëmbarked.<a id="FNanchor_242" href="#Footnote_242" class="fnanchor">[242]</a></p>

<p>Plymouth was regained without further adventure.
Their return was welcome, for these ten constituted
half the martial force of the commonwealth;
and in their absence the remaining settlers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span>
had learned of dangerous intrigues against their
peace, stirred by a sachem called Corbitant, an ally
of Massasoit’s, but never a friend to the Pilgrims.<a id="FNanchor_243" href="#Footnote_243" class="fnanchor">[243]</a></p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“The flying rumors gathered as they rolled;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And all who told it added something new,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And all who heard it made enlargement too;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">In every ear it spread, on every tongue it grew.”<a id="FNanchor_244" href="#Footnote_244" class="fnanchor">[244]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p>At first this startling intelligence was flung into
the ears of the settlers: “The Narragansetts have
invaded Massasoit’s territory; the sagamore is
either a prisoner or has fled; an attack upon Plymouth
may immediately be expected.”<a id="FNanchor_245" href="#Footnote_245" class="fnanchor">[245]</a></p>

<p>Squanto, Tokamahamon, and a warrior named
Habbamak, who had come to live among the colonists,
“a proper, lusty man, of great account for his
valor and parts among the Indians,”<a id="FNanchor_246" href="#Footnote_246" class="fnanchor">[246]</a> were at once
despatched to reconnoitre. Hardly had they disappeared
in the skirting forests ere word was brought
that Massasoit was safe, that the Narragansetts were
not near, but that Corbitant was using every wile
to detach the sagamore from the English alliance,
while he threatened death to <ins class="corr" id="tn-125" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'Squanto, Takamahamon'">
Squanto, Tokamahamon</ins>, and Habbamak, the counsellors of the sachem
who were so actively friendly to the Pilgrims.<a id="FNanchor_247" href="#Footnote_247" class="fnanchor">[247]</a></p>

<p>Events hustled each other; for scarcely had the
settlers time to breathe freer after this recital, ere
“Habbamak came running in all sweating,” and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span>
informed the clustering colonists that he and his
two friends had been surprised and overpowered at
Namasket by Corbitant; that he had managed to
escape, but that he feared Squanto and Tokamahamon
were dead, as he saw Corbitant press a knife
to their breasts, and say, “If Squanto were dead,
these English would lose their tongue.”<a id="FNanchor_248" href="#Footnote_248" class="fnanchor">[248]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims never appear to greater advantage
than in moments of trial; they are always
equal to the occasion;</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent18">“Like a ball that bounds</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">According to the force with which ’twas thrown;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">So in affliction’s violence, he that’s wise,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The more he’s cast down, will the higher rise.”<a id="FNanchor_249" href="#Footnote_249" class="fnanchor">[249]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">’Twas so with the Pilgrims. Danger seemed powerless
to abash them. They “walked softly before
the Lord,” but they “feared no evil.” They were
profoundly penetrated with John Marston’s maxim:
“Through danger safety comes; through trouble
rest.”</p>

<p>So now in this strait, they wasted no time in
technical deliberation. Justice to themselves, to
Squanto, to Massasoit, demanded action, prompt,
efficient. Impunity was a bounty on offence. They
were too weak to dare let an insult go unpunished.
Besides, it was remembered that “if they should
suffer their friends and messengers to be thus
wronged, they would have none to cleave unto
them, or bring them intelligence, or do them any
good service afterwards, while next their foes would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span>
fall upon themselves. Whereupon it was resolved
to send Standish and fourteen men well armed, and
to go and fall upon the Indian village at Namasket
at night; and if they found that Squanto was killed,
to cut off Corbitant’s head, but not to hurt any not
concerned in the murder. Habbamak was asked if
he would go and be their guide. He said he would,
and bring them to the very spot, and point out Corbitant.
So they set out on the evening of August
14th, 1621.”<a id="FNanchor_250" href="#Footnote_250" class="fnanchor">[250]</a></p>

<p>The night was dark and tempestuous. Habbamak
himself was often puzzled to find the path,
and at times groped blindly. Towards midnight
the little army halted and made a supper in the
dark. As they were now near Namasket, the final
preparations for the assault were made. Knapsacks
were thrown aside, and each man received
his specific directions. The plan was to surround
the wigwam of Corbitant and seize him ere he could
escape. None were to be injured unless an attempt
to escape was made.<a id="FNanchor_251" href="#Footnote_251" class="fnanchor">[251]</a></p>

<p>The march was now resumed. Cautiously and
silently they trod in the footsteps of their dusky
guide, casting furtive glances into the enveloping
gloom, and pausing momentarily to listen and to
watch. At length the Indian village was reached.
There it lay, calm and oblivious of danger, the eyes
of its inmates sealed in sleep. Softly but swiftly
the assailants stole like spectres half round the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span>
drowsy town, and instructed by Habbamak, the
wigwam of the hostile sachem was surrounded.
Then came another brief pause, and each man’s
heart seemed throbbing in his throat, so new and
so exciting was the situation. The signal followed;
the hut was entered; its inmates, still half asleep,
were deprived of speech by fright and drowsiness.
Soon, however, they regained their senses, and great
commotion ensued. Standish asked if Corbitant
was there. Unable or unwilling to reply, several
of the aroused Indians essayed to pass the guard.
Then the guns of the invaders increased the hubbub,
and flashed angrily in the pitchy darkness.
The women, rushing to Habbamak, called him
“Friend, friend!” The boys, noticing that no injury
was attempted against the squaws, shouted,
“I am a girl, I am a girl!”<a id="FNanchor_252" href="#Footnote_252" class="fnanchor">[252]</a></p>

<p>After a time silence was regained. Standish,
speaking through the lips of Habbamak, explained
the object of the assault, and again demanded to
know the whereabouts of Corbitant. Reassured,
the Indians said that the wily sachem, fearing some
revengeful action, had decamped; that Squanto and
Tokamahamon had not yet been murdered, but were
held as captives in a neighboring wigwam.<a id="FNanchor_253" href="#Footnote_253" class="fnanchor">[253]</a></p>

<p>The friendly sachems were speedily released,
and while their deliverers heartily rejoiced over
their escape, they regretted that of Corbitant.<a id="FNanchor_254" href="#Footnote_254" class="fnanchor">[254]</a>
The whole party breakfasted with Squanto; after
which the Namasket Indians were assembled, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span>
Standish informed them of his determination to
hunt Corbitant, and to punish all who should plot
evil against the colony, or who should presume to
contend against the authority of Massasoit. He
also regretted that any had been wounded in the
night attack, and invited those who pleased to accompany
him back to Plymouth, where an English
physician would heal their hurts. Three, two men
and a squaw, accepted this invitation, and tarrying
until their wounds were dressed, medicined, and
cured, they were then dismissed in peace.<a id="FNanchor_255" href="#Footnote_255" class="fnanchor">[255]</a></p>

<p>This expedition, so successful and so bloodless,
had a prodigious effect. By some system of primitive
telegraphing, the news of it, and of the awful
fire-weapons of the pale-faces, spread throughout
the forests. The red men did not want such “medicine
men” for their foes. Nine sachems, representing
jurisdictions which extended from Charles
River to Buzzard’s Bay, came to Plymouth and
made their submission.<a id="FNanchor_256" href="#Footnote_256" class="fnanchor">[256]</a> The Indians of an island
which the settlers had never seen, sent to sue for
their friendship;<a id="FNanchor_257" href="#Footnote_257" class="fnanchor">[257]</a> and Corbitant himself, though
too shy to come near Plymouth in person, used the
mediation of Massasoit to make his peace.<a id="FNanchor_258" href="#Footnote_258" class="fnanchor">[258]</a></p>

<p>The result was, broader amity and firmer peace.
But the Pilgrims conquered as much by their moderation
and self-command as by their energetic<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span>
heroism. The anxious care with which they treated
the injured warriors of their midnight raid, and the
candor of their speech, placated resentment and
inspired respect. Still the basis of this feeling was
a knowledge that the white men would not suffer
insult; and it has been finely said, that if we justly
estimate it, there was more of sound policy and gallant
daring in the midnight raid of this handful of
strangers, than has marked many a deed of arms
which historians have delighted to record, and to
which nations still look back with exultant pride.<a id="FNanchor_259" href="#Footnote_259" class="fnanchor">[259]</a></p>

<p>Just as autumn began to smile, the Pilgrims
made another expedition. This had a twofold purpose:
to explore the country, and to cement a peace
with the northeastern tribes.<a id="FNanchor_260" href="#Footnote_260" class="fnanchor">[260]</a></p>

<p>Entering the shallop at midnight, Standish and
nine others, with three Indians to interpret, of
whom Squanto was one, embarked with the ebb-tide.<a id="FNanchor_261" href="#Footnote_261" class="fnanchor">[261]</a>
They sailed along the coast to the bay on
which Boston now stands, called in the contemporaneous
record, <em>Massachusetts Bay</em>.<a id="FNanchor_262" href="#Footnote_262" class="fnanchor">[262]</a> “On the second
morning after leaving Plymouth, they landed
upon a beach under a cliff, and received the submission
of a chief on promising to be ‘a safeguard
from his enemies.’ They surveyed the ‘fifty islands’
of Boston harbor; and passing the night on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span>
board their boat, went on shore again the following
day and walked a few miles into the country. They
observed land which had been cultivated, two forts
in decay, untenanted huts, and other tokens of recent
depopulation. They noted ‘the fair entrance’
of the river Charles, and ‘harbors for shipping’
than which ‘better could not be.’ They conciliated
the few natives whom they met, and traded with
them for some skins. They learned that the principal
personage in the neighborhood was the female
chief, or ‘squaw sachem’ of the Massachusetts; that
this tribe had suffered from the hostile incursions
of the Tarratines, and that its people owed a certain
allegiance to Massasoit. The third evening,
by ‘a light moon,’ the party set sail for home, which
they reached before the following noon. The accounts
they brought of the seat of their explorations
naturally led their friends to ‘wish they had
been seated there;’”<a id="FNanchor_263" href="#Footnote_263" class="fnanchor">[263]</a> but “the Lord, who assigns
to all men the bounds of their habitations,” remarks
Bradford, “had appointed it for another
use.”<a id="FNanchor_264" href="#Footnote_264" class="fnanchor">[264]</a> The party “found the Lord to be with
them in all their ways, and to bless their outgoings
and incomings, for which let his holy name have
the praise for ever to all posterity.”<a id="FNanchor_265" href="#Footnote_265" class="fnanchor">[265]</a></p>

<p>Standish and his friends had returned on the
22d of September. Their services were needed;
the nodding crops were to be reaped, and all “began<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span>
now to gather in the small harvest they had.”<a id="FNanchor_266" href="#Footnote_266" class="fnanchor">[266]</a>
The husbandry of the year proved a prosperous
beginning. The rivers supplied manure in abundance,
and the weather had been not unfavorable.<a id="FNanchor_267" href="#Footnote_267" class="fnanchor">[267]</a>
“All the summer there was no want.” While
“some were thus employed in affairs abroad, others
were exercised” in domestic avocations, in
“fishing for cod and bass and other fish, of which
they took great store, giving every family its portion.”<a id="FNanchor_268" href="#Footnote_268" class="fnanchor">[268]</a></p>

<p>When the fields were gleaned, the pease turned
out “not worth the gathering, the sun having
parched them in the blossom;” the barley was
“indifferent good;” and there was “a good increase
of Indian corn.” “They had about a peck
of meal a week to a person; or now, since harvest,
Indian corn to that proportion.”<a id="FNanchor_269" href="#Footnote_269" class="fnanchor">[269]</a></p>

<p>Seven substantial dwelling-houses had been
built, “and four for the use of the plantation,”
while others were being constructed. Fowl were
so abundant in the autumn, that “four men in one
day killed as much as, with a little help besides,
served the community almost a week.” “There
was great store of wild turkeys, of which they took
many, besides venison.” The fowlers had been sent
out by the governor, “that so they might, after a
special manner, rejoice together, since they had
gathered the fruit of their labors;” this was the
origin and the first celebration of the national festival<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span>
of New England, the autumnal <span class="allsmcap">THANKSGIVING</span>.
On that occasion of hilarity they “exercised their
arms,” and for three days “entertained and feasted”
Massasoit and some ninety of his people, who made
a contribution of five deer to the festivity. Health
was restored; household fires were blazing brightly;
and in good heart and hope the lonely but
thankful settlers disposed themselves to meet the
rigor of another winter.<a id="FNanchor_270" href="#Footnote_270" class="fnanchor">[270]</a></p>

<p>“Here was free range; the hunter’s instincts
could bourgeon and grow; the deer that browsed,
the fish that swam, the fowl that flew, were free to
all—might be captives to each man’s bow and spear.
Here were ‘herring, cod, and ling,’ ‘salt upon salt,’
‘beavers, otters, furs of price,’ ‘mines of gold and
silver,’ ‘woods of all sorts,’ ‘eagles, gripes, whales,
grampus, moose, deer,’ ‘bears, and wolves,’ ‘all in
season, mind you, for you cannot gather cherries at
Christmas in Kent.’ Who then would live at home
in degradation, only to eat, and drink, and sleep and
to die?”<a id="FNanchor_271" href="#Footnote_271" class="fnanchor">[271]</a></p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br>
<span class="fs80">REINFORCEMENT.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“A golden treasure is the tried friend;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">But who may gold from counterfeits defend?</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Trust not too soon, nor yet too soon mistrust;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Who twines betwixt, and steers the golden mean,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Nor rashly loveth, nor mistrusts in vain.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent23"><span class="smcap">Mirror for Magistrates.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>On the morning of the 9th of November, 1621,
after morning prayer—for the Pilgrims commenced
each fresh day by the solemn invocation of God’s
blessing on its labors, and at evening sealed the
record by devout thanksgiving—when the thrifty
settlers had separated each to his respective task,
an Indian runner came breathless into the settlement,
and announced that a vessel might be seen
off Cape Cod, apparently crowding sail for Plymouth
harbor.<a id="FNanchor_272" href="#Footnote_272" class="fnanchor">[272]</a></p>

<p>As no friends were expected at that season, this
intelligence caused great excitement. A rush for
the neighboring heights was made. There, indeed,
spotting the dim horizon, a strange ship might be
discerned. Endless were the speculations as to her
character and objects. Was she manned by the inimical
Frenchman? Was she a buccaneer, bent on
murderous pillage? Could she be a friend? The
Pilgrims were cautious and provident men. In the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span>
wilderness the common law maxim was reversed—all
were necessarily held to be guilty until proved
innocent. So now preparation was made to repel
intruders, should they come with hostile intent.
The governor ordered a cannon to be fired to summon
the scattered pioneers home. All were armed;
then, in painful suspense, the colonists waited the
approach of the stranger craft. Nearer she drew
and yet nearer. Intently was her every motion
viewed. Her architecture was studied; her rigging
was observed; and all eyes were directed towards
the peak where should flap her flag: it was not
there. But, suddenly, it was run up, and, lo, it was
the English jack!</p>

<p>The colonists were delirious with joy, for that
flag meant friends at hand and news from “home;”
so their welcoming shouts went echoing across the
water to their incoming reinforcers.</p>

<p>Soon the ship anchored; then the boats passing
to and fro bore the friends to each other’s arms;
and amid kindly greetings and warm welcomings
the news was asked and told.</p>

<p>It was the “Fortune” which had just arrived. She
brought Cushman and thirty-five others to reinforce
the infant colony.<a id="FNanchor_273" href="#Footnote_273" class="fnanchor">[273]</a> Among this company were several
who had embarked in the “Speedwell,” balked
of a passage then, but now safely arrived.<a id="FNanchor_274" href="#Footnote_274" class="fnanchor">[274]</a> The
meeting was not untinged with sadness. “Death
had been busy; Carver was gone, and more than<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span>
half of those to whom Cushman had bidden God-speed
in the “Mayflower” rested under the sod, the
grass growing on their levelled graves.”<a id="FNanchor_275" href="#Footnote_275" class="fnanchor">[275]</a></p>

<p>But as was their wont, the Pilgrims looked on
the bright side of the picture; and all thanked God
that some remained to welcome the new-comers.</p>

<p>When the home budget was opened it was found
to contain several items of moment to the colony.
The patent of the London company under which
the emigrants had expected to possess their American
homes, was made to cover Virginia alone, and
this was rendered nugatory by the debarkation in
New England.<a id="FNanchor_276" href="#Footnote_276" class="fnanchor">[276]</a></p>

<p>The London company was now under a cloud.
The active prominence of its chiefs as popular leaders
of the Parliamentary reformers against the royal
prerogative, had provoked the pique of James; and
his hostility was increased by the cunning of the
Spanish court, with which he was then on friendly
terms, and which desired to repel English neighbors
from the Spanish settlement in Florida.<a id="FNanchor_277" href="#Footnote_277" class="fnanchor">[277]</a></p>

<p>James exhibited his resentment by favoring the
interests of a rival company of which Gorges, and
Sheffield, and Hamilton, were the leaders. To them
a new incorporation was granted, and assuming
the title of the “Plymouth Company,” they were
empowered “to order and govern New England in
America.”<a id="FNanchor_278" href="#Footnote_278" class="fnanchor">[278]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span></p>

<p>Upon the domain of the new corporation the
Pilgrims had settled without leave; they were therefore
liable to a summary ejectment.<a id="FNanchor_279" href="#Footnote_279" class="fnanchor">[279]</a> The company
of Merchant-adventurers, under whose auspices they
had sailed, informed of their position by the return
of the “Mayflower,” immediately applied to the
Plymouth company for a patent which should cover
the soil now colonized.<a id="FNanchor_280" href="#Footnote_280" class="fnanchor">[280]</a> It was granted “to John
Pierce and his associates,” and was in trust for the
benefit of the colony.<a id="FNanchor_281" href="#Footnote_281" class="fnanchor">[281]</a></p>

<p>Thomas Weston, the agent of the Merchant-adventurers,
sent a copy of this charter to the Plymouth
colonists, accompanying it with a letter in
which, after complaining of the long detention of
the “Mayflower” in America, and of her return
without a cargo, he said that “the future life of the
business depended on the lading of the ‘Fortune,’”
which being done, he promised never to desert the
Pilgrims, even if all the other merchants should do
so;<a id="FNanchor_282" href="#Footnote_282" class="fnanchor">[282]</a> adding, “I pray you write instantly for Mr. Robinson
to come to you; and send us a fair engrossment
of the contract betwixt yourselves and us, subscribed
with the names of the principal planters.”<a id="FNanchor_283" href="#Footnote_283" class="fnanchor">[283]</a></p>

<p>While the “Fortune” lay moored in Plymouth
harbor, Bradford penned a weighty and dignified<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span>
reply to Weston’s animadversions. After reciting the
incidents which had checkered the twelvemonth of
their settlement, including the death of Carver, to
whom the agent of the Merchant-adventurers had
directed his missive, he said, with an unconscious
touch of pathos, “If the company has suffered, on the
side of the settlers there have been disappointments
far more serious. The loss of many honest and industrious
men’s lives cannot be valued at any price.
It pleased God to visit us with death daily, and
with so general a disease that the living were scarce
able to bury the dead, and the well not in any
measure sufficient to tend the sick. And now to
be so greatly blamed for not freighting the ship,
doth indeed go near us, and much discourage us.”<a id="FNanchor_284" href="#Footnote_284" class="fnanchor">[284]</a></p>

<p>Preëminently conscientious, and earnestly desirous
to give the Merchant-adventurers no just cause
of complaint, the Pilgrim colonists made every effort
to secure a speedy and profitable cargo for the
“Fortune’s” homeward voyage. The ship was a
small one of but fifty-five tons burden;<a id="FNanchor_285" href="#Footnote_285" class="fnanchor">[285]</a> but she
was at once “laden with good clapboards, as full as
she could stow, two hogsheads of beaver and other
skins, with a few other trifling commodities,” in all
to the value of five hundred pounds.<a id="FNanchor_286" href="#Footnote_286" class="fnanchor">[286]</a> Barely fourteen
days elapsed between her arrival and her readiness
to depart.<a id="FNanchor_287" href="#Footnote_287" class="fnanchor">[287]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span></p>

<p>Just before the “Fortune” sailed, the colonists
were busy in preparing epistles for their friends in
England and for the dear Leyden congregation.
These were intrusted to Robert Cushman, who
was to return to London and make a report of the
situation of the Plymouth colony.<a id="FNanchor_288" href="#Footnote_288" class="fnanchor">[288]</a> He himself,
just on the eve of his return, delivered a memorial
discourse in the block-citadel on Fort hill—which
was at once church and castle—in which he recited
vividly the cause of the emigration, the incidents
attending it, the spirit of the actors, and the auguries
of the future; and this was printed at London
in 1622.<a id="FNanchor_289" href="#Footnote_289" class="fnanchor">[289]</a></p>

<p>In the dedicatory epistle to this sermon—whose
object was to draw the attention of Puritans at
home to the advantages of the Plymouth settlement
as a residence where the virtues of religion might
be more than ordinarily exemplified, as is proved by
the fact that it was so speedily published in England—Cushman
says: “If there be any who are
content to lay out their estates, spend their time,
labor, and endeavors for the benefit of those who
shall come after, and who desire to further the gospel
among the poor heathen, quietly contenting
themselves with such hardships as by God’s providence
shall fall upon them, such men I should advise
and encourage to go to New England, for in
that wilderness their ends cannot fail them. And
whoso rightly considereth what manner of entrance,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span>
abiding, and proceeding we have had among the
savages since we came, will easily think that God
hath some great work in store for us. By reason
of one Squanto, who lives amongst us, who can speak
English, we can have daily commerce with the Indian
kings; and acquaint them with our causes and
purposes, both human and religious.”<a id="FNanchor_290" href="#Footnote_290" class="fnanchor">[290]</a></p>

<p>Three things, according to Winslow, are the
bane and overthrow of plantations: The vain expectation
of instantaneous profit, without work;
ambition; and the lawlessness of settlers.<a id="FNanchor_291" href="#Footnote_291" class="fnanchor">[291]</a> These
rocks long wrecked the prosperity of the American
colonies outside of New England. Cushman bade
emigrants beware of entertaining the too common
error of supposing that the wilderness was an actual
Eldorado, as the Spanish had taught, and as the
Virginia colonists had imagined.<a id="FNanchor_292" href="#Footnote_292" class="fnanchor">[292]</a> “No,” he said,
“neither is there any land or possession now like
unto that which the Jews had in Canaan, being
legally holy, and appropriated unto holy people, the
seed of Abraham, in which they dwelt securely, and
had their days prolonged, it being by an immediate
voice said, that the Lord gave it to them as a land
of rest after their weary travels, and as a type of
eternal rest in heaven. But now there is no land
of that sanctity, no land so appropriated, none typical,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span>
much less any that can be said to be given of
God to any one people, as Canaan was, which they
and theirs must dwell in till God sendeth upon
them sword and captivity. Now we are all, in all
places, strangers and pilgrims, travellers and sojourners.
Having no dwelling but in this earthly
tabernacle, no residence but a wandering, no abiding
but a fleeting,”<a id="FNanchor_293" href="#Footnote_293" class="fnanchor">[293]</a> where work makes a home,
and labor keeps it.</p>

<p>In a private letter addressed by Edward Winslow
to a friend in London, and which helped to
swell the budget which went out by the “Fortune,”
that stout old worthy says: “We have found the
Indians very faithful to their covenant of peace with
us, very loving and ready to pleasure us. We often
go to them, and they come to us. Some of us have
been fifty miles by land into the interior with them,
the occasions and relation whereof you shall understand
by our general and more full declaration
of such things as are worth noting. Yea, it hath
pleased God so to possess the Indians with fear of
us, and love unto us, that not only the greatest king
amongst them, called Massasoit, but also all the
princes and tribes round about us have sent their
messengers to us to make suit for peace, so that
there is now great peace amongst the Indians themselves,
which was not formerly, neither would have
been but for us; and we, for our part, walk as peaceably
and safely in the wood as in the highways in
England. We entertain them pleasantly and familiarly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span>
in our cabins, and they as friendly bestow
their venison on us. They are a people without any
religion, yet trusty, quick of apprehension, ripe—withal
just.”<a id="FNanchor_294" href="#Footnote_294" class="fnanchor">[294]</a></p>

<p>By this same opportunity William Hilton, who
had come out in the “Fortune,” thus sums up an
account to his “loving cousin” of the natural wealth
and prospects of the country on whose soil he had
recently set foot: “Better grain cannot be than the
Indian corn, if we will plant it upon as good ground
as a man may desire. We are all freeholders; the
rent-day doth not trouble us; and of all the blessings
we have, which and what we list we may take
in season. Our company are, for the most part,
very honest, religious people. The word of God is
sincerely taught us every Sabbath; so that I know
not any thing a contented, earnest mind can here
want. I desire your friendly care to send my wife
and children to me when occasion serves, where I
wish all the friends I have in England.”<a id="FNanchor_295" href="#Footnote_295" class="fnanchor">[295]</a></p>

<p>Winslow gives us some significant hints of the
social life and wants of the colony by describing to
his friends the stores most needful to send out for
their use; and we get no little insight into the
hardships and very homely accommodations of the
forefathers through the glass of his request that the
next ship may “bring paper and linseed oil for the
windows, with cotton yarn for the lamps.”<a id="FNanchor_296" href="#Footnote_296" class="fnanchor">[296]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span></p>

<p>And now, on the 14th of December, 1621, all
being ready and leave-taking said, the little “Fortune,”
crammed with the “first fruits” of the Pilgrim
enterprise, set sail for England. But alas, just
as she had almost reached the English coast, she
was clutched by a French privateer, robbed of her
precious freight, and sent into the Thames an empty
hull, to the bitter chagrin of the company of Merchant-adventurers,
and the sad disappointment of
the Plymouth colonists, when, at a later day, they
learned of the misfortune.<a id="FNanchor_297" href="#Footnote_297" class="fnanchor">[297]</a></p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE MORALE OF THE COLONY.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Is the immediate jewel of their souls.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent24"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>, <cite>Othello</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>On the return of the settlers from the shore
where they had said good-by to the “Fortune,” it
was arranged that the new-comers should for the
present, in the absence of other accommodations,
be received into the families already provided with
cabins.<a id="FNanchor_298" href="#Footnote_298" class="fnanchor">[298]</a> Unhappily, the “Fortune” had brought
out no store; indeed, she was obliged to rely on
the colonists for provisions for her larder on the
home voyage. The emigrants whom she landed
were absolutely destitute, having “not so much as
biscuit-cake or any other victuals set aside for present
want. Neither had they any bedding, nor pot
nor pan to dress meat in, nor over-many clothes.”<a id="FNanchor_299" href="#Footnote_299" class="fnanchor">[299]</a></p>

<p>Though the plantation rejoiced at this increase
of strength, yet they would have been better pleased
had many of the emigrants come better provided
and in fitter condition to winter in the wilderness.<a id="FNanchor_300" href="#Footnote_300" class="fnanchor">[300]</a></p>

<p>With the provident promptness which is so omnipresent
a trait in their character, the Pilgrims at
once “took an exact account of all their provisions<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span>
in store, and proportioning these to the number of
persons, found that, owing to the arrival of so many
unexpected and necessitous guests, they would not
hold out above six months, or till the spring, on
half-allowance; and they could not well give less
this winter-time, till fish came in again. But all
were presently put on half-allowance, which began
to be hard, but it was borne patiently.”<a id="FNanchor_301" href="#Footnote_301" class="fnanchor">[301]</a></p>

<p>Indeed, the Pilgrims bore this hardship with
something better than mere patience. “I take notice
of it as a great favor of God,” wrote one of the
sufferers, “that he has not only preserved my life,
but given me <em>contentedness</em> in our straits; insomuch
that I do not remember ever to have wished in my
heart that I had never come into this country, or
that I might be again in my father’s house.”<a id="FNanchor_302" href="#Footnote_302" class="fnanchor">[302]</a> It
was said of Brewster, that “with the most submissive
patience he bore the novel and trying hardships
to which his old age was subjected, lived abstemiously,
and after having been in his youth the
companion of ministers of state, the representative
of his sovereign, familiar with the magnificence of
courts, and the possessor of a fortune sufficient not
only for the comforts, but the elegances of life, this
humble, devoted Puritan labored steadily with his
own hands in the ‘histie stibble-fields’ of the unkempt
wilderness for daily subsistence; while on the
Sabbath, as elder of the church, and in the absence
of an ordained minister, he broke the bread of life
for the Pilgrim flock. Now, destitute of meat, of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span>
fish, and of bread, over his simple meal of clams
he would return thanks to the Lord that he could
suck of the abundance of the sea and of treasures
hid in the sand.”<a id="FNanchor_303" href="#Footnote_303" class="fnanchor">[303]</a></p>

<p>An eminent historian bids us beware of the error
of supposing that the community planted at Plymouth
was of a strictly homogeneous character.
“The devoted men who, at Leyden, had debated
the question of emigration, did not constitute the
whole company even of the ‘Mayflower.’ They had
been joined in England by several strangers who,
like themselves, had come under engagement to the
Merchant-adventurers of London. That partnership
had business objects, and was by no means
solely swayed by religious sympathy with the Leyden
Pilgrims.”<a id="FNanchor_304" href="#Footnote_304" class="fnanchor">[304]</a></p>

<p>Of the twenty men of the “Mayflower’s” company
who survived the first winter, several are unfavorably
known, as Billington, the foul-mouthed
contemner of Standish’s authority, and Dotey and
Lister, the lackey duelists of Hopkins’ quiet household.<a id="FNanchor_305" href="#Footnote_305" class="fnanchor">[305]</a></p>

<p>So of the reinforcement by the “Fortune.”
Some were old and devout friends of the colonists,
as Simonson and De la Noye, members of the Leyden
church; John Winslow, Edward’s brother;
Thomas Prince, afterwards governor; Cushman’s
son, and a son of Brewster.<a id="FNanchor_306" href="#Footnote_306" class="fnanchor">[306]</a> Others were turbulent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span>
and restless rovers, impatient of control, careless
in religion, and burning for adventure; in Bradford’s
phrase, “lusty young men, and many of them
wild enough, who little considered whither or about
what they went.”<a id="FNanchor_307" href="#Footnote_307" class="fnanchor">[307]</a> Happily for the peace of the
little commonwealth and for posterity, “the advantage
of numbers and the authority of superior character
determined that events should proceed at
Plymouth according to the policy of Bradford,
Brewster, and their godly friends. Still internal
tendencies to disturbance are not to be left out of
view in a consideration of the embarrassments with
which the forefathers had to contend.”<a id="FNanchor_308" href="#Footnote_308" class="fnanchor">[308]</a></p>

<p>Under Bradford’s government, the laws were
few and mild, but firm; and neither the lazy nor
the godless received countenance, though tender
consciences were never pinched. Take this incident
as an illustration: “On the day called Christmas
day, the governor called the settlers out to
work, as was usual; but the most part of the new-comers
excused themselves, and said it went against
their consciences to work on Christmas. So the
governor told them if they made it a matter of conscience,
he would spare them till they were better
informed. On this, he led away the rest, and left
them; but when the laborers came home from work
at noon, they found the scrupulous new-comers in
the street at play openly; some pitching the bar,
some at foot-ball, and others at kindred sports.
Immediately the governor went to them, and took<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span>
away their implements, and told them that it was
against his conscience that they should play while
others worked. If they made the keeping of Christmas
matter of devotion, let them keep their houses;
but there should be no gaming or revelling in the
streets; since which time nothing hath been attempted
that way, at least openly.”<a id="FNanchor_309" href="#Footnote_309" class="fnanchor">[309]</a></p>

<p>In this and kindred ways, the commonwealth
was controlled and moulded into higher courses.
Practical consistency was gained, and the elements
out of which homogeneity might grow were planted
at every hearthstone.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent26">“In companions</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">That did converse and spend their time together,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Whose souls did bear an equal yoke of love</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">There needs should be a like proportion</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit.”</div>
</div>
</div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE PILGRIM GOVERNMENT.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“A free republic, where, beneath the sway</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of mild and equal laws, framed by themselves,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">One people dwell, and own no lord save God.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent20"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hale’s</span> <cite>Ormond Grosvenor.</cite></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>Just here it is perhaps fit that the salient features
of the unique government under which the
forefathers lived and prospered should be briefly
sketched; and in order that this exposition may be
clear, claiming the privilege of a chronicler, we shall
command the clock of this narration to stand still,
while we peer at times into the then future, in tracing
some law to its result, or in depicting the change
of front of an exploded policy.</p>

<p>At the outset, the arrangements of the Pilgrims
were extremely simple, and grew naturally from
their needs, from their crude ideas of liberty, and
their imperfect conception of a model state. Nominally,
the sovereignty of Britain was recognized;
in fact, all through these opening decades of American
history, the colonists were despised by the
home government, and left free to plant the most
radical principles of a “proper democracy.” It was
only when the greed of gain squeezed her heart, not
repentance nor love, that England recognized the
legitimacy of the neglected child whom she had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span>
pronounced a bastard, and left to freeze in the
winter wilderness. When God wrote success upon
the frontlet of the colony, the Shylocks on the Rialtos
of the world were eager to invest in the enterprise,
while England, with motherly pride, patted
New England upon the head and said, “I rocked
your cradle; but, bless me, how you are grown,
and how like me you are. You may pay me your
earnings, and I’ll send you a governor.”</p>

<p>But through the bitter months of the incipient
settlement Shylock could see nothing in New England
but a barren coast, while Britain could not
discern Plymouth Rock across the water; nor if she
had would any craving governor have itched to set
up his chair of state in a cheerless Eldorado of ice
and snow.</p>

<p>So the Pilgrims were left to shift for themselves
until, strengthened by incessant tussles with a rugged
climate and the savage foe, they expanded into
robust manhood. In these first months, the Plymouth
colonists regarded themselves as one family,
at whose head stood the governor, <i lang="la">in loco parentis</i>.<a id="FNanchor_310" href="#Footnote_310" class="fnanchor">[310]</a>
But as business increased, the whole burden of government
was felt to be too onerous for the single
shoulders of the governor to bear; and when Bradford
stepped into the gubernatorial chair left vacant
by the death of Carver, he was voted an assistant.<a id="FNanchor_311" href="#Footnote_311" class="fnanchor">[311]</a>
In 1624, he was given five assistants. Afterwards,
in 1633, the number was increased to seven; and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span>
these, called “the Governor’s Council,”<a id="FNanchor_312" href="#Footnote_312" class="fnanchor">[312]</a> governed
the commonwealth in conjunction with their primitive
executive. The vote of each councillor counted
one, and the vote of the chief magistrate was but
double—the only check he had over the action of
the Council.<a id="FNanchor_313" href="#Footnote_313" class="fnanchor">[313]</a></p>

<p>The governor was chosen annually, by general
suffrage,<a id="FNanchor_314" href="#Footnote_314" class="fnanchor">[314]</a> as were also the councillors.<a id="FNanchor_315" href="#Footnote_315" class="fnanchor">[315]</a> The name
of the man who was disposed to shirk his civil duty
we do not know; “but a curious law was <ins class="corr" id="tn-151" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'passed in in 1632'">
passed in 1632</ins>, that whoever should refuse the office of
governor, being chosen thereto, should pay twenty
pounds; and that of magistrate, ten pounds. Very
singular, certainly; and we may suppose that that
race has run out even in Massachusetts.”<a id="FNanchor_316" href="#Footnote_316" class="fnanchor">[316]</a></p>

<p>The legislative body was at first composed of
the whole company of voters.<a id="FNanchor_317" href="#Footnote_317" class="fnanchor">[317]</a> Then, when their
numbers grew, church-membership was made the
test of citizenship<a id="FNanchor_318" href="#Footnote_318" class="fnanchor">[318]</a>—a test which endured till 1665,
when it was reluctantly yielded at the requisition
of the king’s commissioners.<a id="FNanchor_319" href="#Footnote_319" class="fnanchor">[319]</a> It was not until
1669 that the increase of population warranted the
establishment of a House of Representatives.<a id="FNanchor_320" href="#Footnote_320" class="fnanchor">[320]</a></p>

<p>“Narrow as the restriction of citizenship to
church-members was, it is easy to explain it by
remembering that toleration, in any large sense,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span>
was hardly entertained by the most liberal religionists
in that twilight age, and that the one idea which
inspired this emigration and nerved these men for
the bitterest sacrifices was, that they and their children
might be free from an ecclesiastical tyranny
which, if it followed, would endanger them. It
should also be borne in mind that the history they
studied, and the guide they felt bound to follow,
was the Jewish theocracy, ordained by God, as they
doubted not, to be a model in church and state for
all time; and that, under that dispensation, death
was the punishment for smaller errors than dissent.
These facts explain and palliate the religious precision
and severity afterwards practised in New
England. But the free idea with which they started
gradually grew broader, overcame the evil customs
of the time, and strangled the prejudices of
the Pilgrims themselves.”<a id="FNanchor_321" href="#Footnote_321" class="fnanchor">[321]</a></p>

<p>So early as the 17th of December, 1623, it was
decreed that “all criminal facts, and all manner of
trespass and debt betwixt man and man, should be
tried by the verdict of twelve honest men.”<a id="FNanchor_322" href="#Footnote_322" class="fnanchor">[322]</a> Thus
the jury trial, the distinctive badge of Saxon civilization,
a right which a long line of able lawyers,
from Coke and Hale to Mansfield and Erskine, have
united in styling the palladium of civil liberty, was
planted in America.</p>

<p>Previous to the year 1632, the laws of Plymouth
colony were little more than the customs of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span>
people.<a id="FNanchor_323" href="#Footnote_323" class="fnanchor">[323]</a> In 1636 these were digested, and prefaced
with a declaration of rights; and, with various
alterations and additions, the whole manuscript
collection was printed in 1671.<a id="FNanchor_324" href="#Footnote_324" class="fnanchor">[324]</a> Let us open the
ponderous old folio, and cull from the mass a few
specimen and characteristic samples. Early provision
was made for the education of youth. Many
of the Pilgrims were men of liberal culture, as Winslow
and Brewster,<a id="FNanchor_325" href="#Footnote_325" class="fnanchor">[325]</a> and all recognized its value and
necessity; so, in order that knowledge and civil
liberty might clasp hands, it was enacted, “that
twelve pounds should be raised for the salary of a
teacher, and that children should be forced to attend
school.”<a id="FNanchor_326" href="#Footnote_326" class="fnanchor">[326]</a></p>

<p>Decreed: “For ordering of persons and distributing
the lands, That freemen shall be twenty-one
years of age; sober and peaceable; orthodox in
the fundamentals of religion. That drunkards shall
be subject to fines, to the stocks, and be posted;
and sellers be forbidden to sell them liquors.</p>

<p>“Horse-racing is forbidden; so also walking
about late o’ nights.</p>

<p>“The minister’s salary shall be paid by rate levied
on all the citizens. Sabbath work and travelling
is forbidden; also all visiting on that day.</p>

<p>“Profane swearing punishable by ‘placing in
the stocks; lying, by the stocks or by fine.’</p>

<p>“Fowling, fishing, and hunting, shall be free.</p>

<p>“Every wolf’s head shall be worth, to an Indian,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span>
twelve shillings or ‘a coat of duffels;’ to a
white man, twenty shillings.</p>

<p>“Haunters of ale-houses shall be disciplined by
the church.</p>

<p>“A motion of marriage to any man’s daughter,
if made without obtaining leave, shall be punished
by fine or corporal punishment, at the discretion of
the court, so it extend not to the endangering of
life or limb.</p>

<p>“Women shall not wear short sleeves; nor shall
their sleeves be more than twenty-two inches wide:”<a id="FNanchor_327" href="#Footnote_327" class="fnanchor">[327]</a>
an enactment the object of which was, to prevent
indecent extremes and extravagance in dress.</p>

<p>So runs this “quaint old volume of forgotten
lore.” If some of these laws seem severe, as we scan
them through the vista of two centuries, and in an
age when sumptuary laws are perhaps too little
known, it may be said in their defence, that they
were quite upon a level with the kindred legislation
of Europe, even in their most obnoxious features,
while their progressive and liberal tone is as new
and unique as the colony which gave them birth,
and whose ideas they mirror.</p>

<p>In May, 1621, the first marriage in New England
was celebrated.<a id="FNanchor_328" href="#Footnote_328" class="fnanchor">[328]</a> Edward Winslow espoused
the widow of William White, and the mother of
Peregrine White, whose infant lullaby was the first
ever sung by Saxon voice in New England.<a id="FNanchor_329" href="#Footnote_329" class="fnanchor">[329]</a> “According<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span>
to the laudable custom of the Low Countries,”
says Bradford, “the ceremony was thought
most requisite to be performed by the magistrate,
as being a civil contract upon which many questions
of inheritance do depend, with other things
most proper for their cognizance, and most consonant
to the Scriptures,<a id="FNanchor_330" href="#Footnote_330" class="fnanchor">[330]</a> it being nowhere found in
the gospel to be layed on ministers as a necessary
part of their office. This practice continued, not
only among them, but it was followed by all the
famous churches of Christ in those parts to the
year 1646.”<a id="FNanchor_331" href="#Footnote_331" class="fnanchor">[331]</a></p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE COLONIAL ROUTINE.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Still to ourselves in every place consigned,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Our own felicity we make or find;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">With silent course, which no loud storms annoy,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent25"><span class="smcap">Goldsmith’s</span> <cite>Traveller.</cite></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>Now, as their second wilderness winter began
to benumb the fingers and chill the blood of the
Pilgrim colonists, they were necessarily shut out
from many of the employments of the spring, the
summer, and the autumn. They were busied chiefly
in fishing, hunting, the collection of fuel, hewing
timber, and exploring expeditions, varying this routine
by occasional traffic with Indian trappers.<a id="FNanchor_332" href="#Footnote_332" class="fnanchor">[332]</a></p>

<p>Devoutly thankful were the forefathers for God’s
mercy and protection in the past, and with tranquil
faith they set their faces towards the future. So
full was their devotion, that it constantly cropped
out, even setting its impress upon the seal of the
commonwealth, which represented four men in the
midst of a wilderness, each resting on one knee,
and raising his clasped hands towards heaven in
the attitude of prayer.<a id="FNanchor_333" href="#Footnote_333" class="fnanchor">[333]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span></p>

<p>With the Pilgrims, faith was the spur of labor;
and this active enterprise eased and conquered all
obstacles. Still, causes for solicitude and trials
infinite constantly arose. The lean condition of
their larder was a care urgent for the passing time
and weighty in the future; and to this a new source
of anxiety was added. In the depth of winter, a
report was bruited that active hostilities might momentarily
be looked for, fomented by the restless
enmity of the Narragansetts.<a id="FNanchor_334" href="#Footnote_334" class="fnanchor">[334]</a></p>

<p>That the Narragansetts were inimical they soon
learned. One day one of the warriors of that tribe
entered Plymouth, and announced himself to be a
messenger from his renowned sagamore Canonicus.
He asked for Squanto, but seemed pleased when
told that he was absent. He said he had a package
for Squanto. This consisted of a bundle of
new arrows, wrapped in a rattlesnake’s skin. It
was enigmatical to the English; but, suspicious
that it could not be the Indian olive-branch, and
might mean mischief, Standish detained the messenger
as he was about to quit the settlement, and
determined to hold him until Squanto’s return
should solve the riddle.<a id="FNanchor_335" href="#Footnote_335" class="fnanchor">[335]</a></p>

<p>At first the savage was frightened; but after a
little, seeing that his captors meant him no harm,
he became quite friendly, and began to chat. The
Pilgrims learned from him, that an envoy whom
they had despatched to negotiate a peace with the
Narragansetts, in the preceding summer, had played<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span>
Judas, and betrayed his trust. Withholding from
Canonicus the presents which the colonists had
sent him as tokens of amity, he had used his influence
to kindle a war. The imprisoned runner said
Canonicus would not have uttered sinister threats,
had he thought the English friendly to him. When
he returned, and informed the Narragansetts of the
real sentiments of the pale-faces, firm peace would
come.<a id="FNanchor_336" href="#Footnote_336" class="fnanchor">[336]</a></p>

<p>Somewhat affected by these representations,
Bradford concluded to release the Indian; previous
to which, however, he bade the envoy inform
Canonicus that the pale-faces had heard of his
threats, and were offended; that they desired to
live in amity with their red brothers; yet if any
warlike demonstrations were made, they would be
prepared to meet them.<a id="FNanchor_337" href="#Footnote_337" class="fnanchor">[337]</a></p>

<p>Then the governor urged the savage to take
some food; but he was too anxious to quit the
dangerous vicinage to remain a moment after his
liberation; so, after expressing his gratitude, he
immediately set out, in the midst of a driving storm,
to find his way through the white, shivering December
woods to his wigwam and his people.<a id="FNanchor_338" href="#Footnote_338" class="fnanchor">[338]</a></p>

<p>When Squanto came in, the settlers at once
crowded about him, and showing him the sphynx-like
Indian package, asked him to spell the riddle.
With a laugh and a shrug, he explained that it expressed
enmity, and was the red man’s declaration<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span>
of war. The settlers were startled; all adjourned
to the fort; and here, after deliberation, it was resolved
to meet menace by menace. They thought,
rightly, that a determined attitude would in their
case be safest; and though Bradford had no anxiety
to pit his fifty-odd men against the five thousand
warriors whom Canonicus could muster, he
was bold and defiant in appearance.<a id="FNanchor_339" href="#Footnote_339" class="fnanchor">[339]</a></p>

<p>The governor filled the rattlesnake-skin with
powder and bullets, and despatched it to the Narragansetts
by a special messenger, with this word:
“If we were supplied with ships, we would save the
Narragansett sagamore the trouble of coming so
far to meet us by sailing to him in his own dominions.
As it is, if he will come to the colony, he will
find us ready to receive him.”<a id="FNanchor_340" href="#Footnote_340" class="fnanchor">[340]</a></p>

<p>When Canonicus heard this message, he was
profoundly impressed with the courage of his pale-face
neighbors; and when the skin was tendered
him, he refused to receive it; but the Pilgrim envoy
would not take it back; so it was passed from
hand to hand among the Narragansetts, till finally,
pushed from the forest by superstitious fear, it
reached the Plymouth settlement <em>unopened</em>.<a id="FNanchor_341" href="#Footnote_341" class="fnanchor">[341]</a></p>

<p>Though this prompt action cowed the Narragansetts
for a time, the rumor of intended hostilities
continued to vex the colonists through the winter.
“This made them the more careful to look to
themselves; so they agreed to enclose their dwellings<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span>
with a strong pale, with flankers in convenient
spots, and gates to shut, which were every night
locked, and a watch kept; when need required,
there was also warding through the day. The
company, by the advice of Standish and the governor,
was divided into four squadrons; and every
man had his position assigned him, to which he
was to repair in case of sudden alarm. If there
should be a cry of fire, a squad was appointed for
a guard, with muskets, whilst others quenched the
flames. All this was accomplished very cheerfully;
and to prevent Indian treachery, the whole town was
impaled round by the beginning of March, while
every family had a pretty garden-spot secured.”<a id="FNanchor_342" href="#Footnote_342" class="fnanchor">[342]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims were regularly drilled by Standish,
who had learned the science of war in Flanders.
On these occasions, part of the exercises consisted
in a general rush, each man to his station, and a
simultaneous discharge of musketry. After this,
the men escorted their officers to their cabins, fired
a salute in their honor, and then dispersed. This
may be considered “the first general muster in
New England.” It was the germ of the present
militia system of thirty-six states.<a id="FNanchor_343" href="#Footnote_343" class="fnanchor">[343]</a></p>

<p>This diligent training ere long moulded the Pilgrims
into a finely disciplined company; and they
were quite proud of their proficiency in arms. Thus</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish, the captain of Plymouth:</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">‘Look at these arms,’ he said, ‘the warlike weapons that hang here,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span>
    <div class="verse indent0">Burnished, and bright, and clean, as if for parade or inspection.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders. This breastplate—</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Well I remember the day—once saved my life in a skirmish.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">There in front you can see the very dint of the bullet</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish Arcabucero.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Had it not been of shear-steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Would at this moment be mould in their grave in the Flemish morasses.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer, planted</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">High on the roof of the church—a preacher who speaks to the purpose,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Steady, straight forward, and strong, with irresistible logic;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Orthodox, flashing conviction right into the hearts of the heathen.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Now we are ready, I think, for an assault of the Indians.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Let them come, if they like, and the sooner they try it the better.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Let them come, if they like, be it sagamore, sachem, or pow-wow,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Aspinet, Samoset, Corbitant, Squanto, or Tokamahamon.’”<a id="FNanchor_344" href="#Footnote_344" class="fnanchor">[344]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p>When, in the preceding summer, the Pilgrims
had visited Massachusetts bay, they had promised
the tribes in that vicinity to come again in the next
spring and renew a trade with them. Now, in the
latter part of March, Standish and his friends commenced
preparations for this voyage. Rumors, constantly
renewed, still foreboded an outbreak against
the peace and safety of the little commonwealth;
and though the winter had been spent without the
yell of the war-whoop, Bradford’s fast friend, Habbamak,
strongly advised against the expedition of
Standish, since he feared that the northeastern<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span>
tribes were in close league with the Narragansetts,
and anxious to precipitate a war.<a id="FNanchor_345" href="#Footnote_345" class="fnanchor">[345]</a></p>

<p>Finally the colonists concluded to undertake
the expedition, but to do so with extreme caution.<a id="FNanchor_346" href="#Footnote_346" class="fnanchor">[346]</a>
Accordingly, Standish embarked. He had not
sailed far, ere he was becalmed. Suddenly he
heard a cannon-shot, the signal of danger. Instantly
putting about, he bade his men row with
their utmost strength and skill. Soon Plymouth
was reached, and Standish learned that, just as he
had sailed, an Indian, one of Squanto’s family, had
brought word that the Narragansetts, with Corbitant
and Massasoit, were marching on the settlement.<a id="FNanchor_347" href="#Footnote_347" class="fnanchor">[347]</a>
Habbamak was confident that, even if this tale were
true, Massasoit was not on the war-path; so confident,
that he sent his squaw, under pretence of
some message, to spy out the facts in the great
sagamore’s village.<a id="FNanchor_348" href="#Footnote_348" class="fnanchor">[348]</a></p>

<p>Meantime watch was kept through the night,
and the whole settlement rested on its arms.<a id="FNanchor_349" href="#Footnote_349" class="fnanchor">[349]</a></p>

<p>Nothing came of it all; not an Indian appeared;
and when Habbamak’s wife returned, she said that
she found Massasoit at home and quiet.<a id="FNanchor_350" href="#Footnote_350" class="fnanchor">[350]</a> “After
this,” says Bradford, “the traders proceeded on
their voyage, and had a good traffic; returning in
safety, blessed by God.”<a id="FNanchor_351" href="#Footnote_351" class="fnanchor">[351]</a></p>

<p>From various circumstances, the settlers began<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span>
to suspect that Squanto “sought his own ends and
played his own game” in his relations with them.
He was the most travelled and learned of the Indians,
and with the spirit of braggadocio and the
love of great stories common to his race, and also
to his white prototypes, he was fond of working on
the fears of his more ignorant and credulous brothers
of the wood, by boasting of his influence with
the pale-faces, by reciting wild and terror-striking
stories of the magical power of the English, and by
offering to insure the peace and security of all who
bought his services.<a id="FNanchor_352" href="#Footnote_352" class="fnanchor">[352]</a></p>

<p>In this way Squanto drove quite a trade, the
patent for his truth being his knowledge and singular
European adventures.</p>

<p>“These English,” he would say to a wondering
and superstitious group of Indians, “are a wise
and powerful people. Diseases are at their command.
They have now buried under their storehouse
the plague. They can send it forth to any
place or upon any people they please, and sweep
them all away, though they went not a step from
home.”<a id="FNanchor_353" href="#Footnote_353" class="fnanchor">[353]</a> “Ugh! ugh!” would be the responses of
the gaping believers. Many was the skin, many
the piece of wampum, given Squanto to purchase
his powerful intercession on their behalf, to lay the
plague of the pale-face magicians.</p>

<p>Once Squanto, being sent for by the governor,
entered the house accompanied by Habbamak and
several other Indians. A hole had been dug in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span>
floor for the purpose of concealing certain articles,
and the ground was left in a broken state. Habbamak,
glancing at it, asked Squanto,</p>

<p>“What does that mean?”</p>

<p>“That,” retorted the wily sachem, “is the place
where the plague is buried that I told you about.”</p>

<p>Habbamak, to satisfy himself of the truth or
falsity of this statement, asked one of the settlers,
shortly after, if this was so.</p>

<p>“No,” said the stern, truthful Puritan; “we
have not the plague at our command; but the God
whom we worship has, and he can send it forth to
the destruction both of his enemies and ours.”<a id="FNanchor_354" href="#Footnote_354" class="fnanchor">[354]</a></p>

<p>Having learned these things, the Pilgrims spared
no pains to contradict Squanto’s misstatements; and
so angered were the neighboring tribes, all of whom
he had repeatedly swindled and misled, that Massasoit
and Habbamak both strenuously insisted
upon putting him to death; for the American Indian
forgave any thing sooner than an attempt to
cheat him; in which he was unlike civilized communities,
which often admire in proportion as they
are cozened, and frown on and resent nothing but
a <em>clumsy</em> cheat.</p>

<p>But Squanto, with all his faults, was too useful
to the Pilgrims to be surrendered to the cruel vengeance
of his foes; so he was saved from death,
though not without difficulty, and at the risk of
estranging Massasoit.<a id="FNanchor_355" href="#Footnote_355" class="fnanchor">[355]</a></p>

<p>This made the rescued sachem “walk more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span>
squarely, and cleave unto the English till he died.”
There was great jealousy between Squanto and
Habbamak. Both were competitors for the good-will
of the Pilgrims; and of this emulation good
use was made. The governor seemed to countenance
the one, and the captain the other, by which
<em>rûse</em> the colonists got better intelligence, and kept
the two scouts more diligent.<a id="FNanchor_356" href="#Footnote_356" class="fnanchor">[356]</a></p>

<p>Towards the latter part of May, 1622, the scanty
provisions of the Pilgrims quite gave out. Actual
hunger began to pinch. The wild fowl, so plenty
in the preceding season, were now grown shy of
Plymouth, and could not be found. Their hooks
and seines for fishing were worn out. It was yet
hardly time to plant, as the frost still clutched the
soil in its icy hand; and even if it were, weary
weeks must elapse ere a crop could be reaped.
The future looked black, yet even in this strait
they trusted in God, “knowing that he would not
desert his own.”<a id="FNanchor_357" href="#Footnote_357" class="fnanchor">[357]</a></p>

<p>While the Pilgrims were thus perplexed to know
where their next mouthful was to come from, they
espied one day a shallop off their harbor. It proved
to be a boat from a ship sent by Thomas Weston
to fish off the coast of Maine. It contained six or
seven passengers and a parcel of home-letters.<a id="FNanchor_358" href="#Footnote_358" class="fnanchor">[358]</a></p>

<p>These emigrants, like those who came in the
“Fortune,” were destitute of provisions, and the
colonists were requested by Weston to provide for
their necessities. Despite their own wants, “they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span>
took compassion on the needy new-comers, and in
this famine gave them as good as any of their
own.”<a id="FNanchor_359" href="#Footnote_359" class="fnanchor">[359]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims got cold comfort from their letter-bag.
“Some of the adventurers,” wrote Weston,
“have sent you herewith some directions for your
furtherance in the common good. It seems to me
that they are like those St. James speaks of, that
bade their brother eat and warm himself, but gave
him nothing; so they bid you make salt and uphold
the plantation, but send you no means wherewithal
to do it. Soon I purpose to send more people on
my own account.”<a id="FNanchor_360" href="#Footnote_360" class="fnanchor">[360]</a></p>

<p>It seemed from other letters, that the company
of Merchant-adventurers was exhausting its energy
in internal bickerings. Nothing was said about
forwarding the remainder of the congregation at
Leyden; nothing was promised for the future; a
simple command was sent, that the colonists should
assent to the breakage of the joint-stock contract,
and despatch to them a paper to that effect, ratified
and certified.<a id="FNanchor_361" href="#Footnote_361" class="fnanchor">[361]</a></p>

<p>“All this,” says Bradford, “was cold comfort
to fill their empty bellies; and on the part of Mr.
Weston, but a slender performance of his late promise
never to forsake the colony;<a id="FNanchor_362" href="#Footnote_362" class="fnanchor">[362]</a> and as little did it
fill and warm cold and hungry men, as those the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span>
apostle James spoke of, by Weston before mentioned.
Well might it remind the settlers of what
the psalmist saith, ‘It is better to trust in the Lord
than to have confidence in man.’<a id="FNanchor_363" href="#Footnote_363" class="fnanchor">[363]</a> And again,
‘Put not your trust in princes’—much less in merchants—‘nor
in the son of man; for there is no
help in them.’<a id="FNanchor_364" href="#Footnote_364" class="fnanchor">[364]</a> ‘Blessed is he that hath the God
of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord
his God.’<a id="FNanchor_365" href="#Footnote_365" class="fnanchor">[365]</a></p>

<p>“These things seemed strange to the settlers.
Seeing this inconsistency and shuffling, it made
them think there was some mystery at bottom.
Therefore the governor, fearing lest, in their straits,
this news should tend to disband and scatter the
colony, concealed these letters from the public, and
only imparting them to some trusty friends for advice,
concluded for the present to keep all quiet,
and await the development of events.”<a id="FNanchor_366" href="#Footnote_366" class="fnanchor">[366]</a></p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE RIVAL COLONIES</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Look here, upon this picture, and on this.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent24"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>, <cite>Hamlet</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>It was towards the close of May, 1622, that the
seven pioneers from Weston’s fishing-smack had
landed at Plymouth. About a month later, in the
end of June or beginning of July, a new colony arrived.
Two vessels, the “Charity” and the “Swan,”
rounded Cape Cod and anchored off the Pilgrim
settlement.<a id="FNanchor_367" href="#Footnote_367" class="fnanchor">[367]</a> They brought out a fresh batch of
home letters, which Bradford and his coadjutors
eagerly opened, hoping to discover the hidden
meaning of these strange movements.</p>

<p>Weston’s missive was first searched. It was to
this effect: “The ‘Fortune’ is arrived, whose good
news touching your estate and proceedings I am
very glad to hear. And howsoever she was robbed
on the way by the Frenchmen, I hope your loss will
not be great, for the conceit of a vast return doth
animate the merchants. As for myself, I have sold
my adventure and debts unto them, so I am quit of
you and you of me. Now, though I have nothing
to pretend as an adventurer among you, yet I will
advise you a little for your good, if you can apprehend
it. I perceive and know as well as any one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span>
the disposition of the Merchant-adventurers, whom
the hope of gain hath drawn on to this they have
done; yet that hope will not draw them much farther.
Besides, most of them are against the sending
of the Leyden congregation, for whose cause
this business was first begun; and some of the most
religious of the company except against them for
their creed.”<a id="FNanchor_368" href="#Footnote_368" class="fnanchor">[368]</a></p>

<p>This presaged disaster, and Weston’s desertion
after his volunteer promises, made the Pilgrims
profoundly sad. Next a letter from two of the
Merchant-adventurers was read. This warned the
colonists to beware of Weston, as one who sought
his own single end, and “whom the company had
bought out and were glad to be quit of.”<a id="FNanchor_369" href="#Footnote_369" class="fnanchor">[369]</a></p>

<p>Then a letter from their old friend Cushman was
opened. “Weston,” he said, “hath quite broken
off from our company, and hath now sent two small
ships on his own venture for a new plantation. The
people which they carry are no men for us, wherefore
I pray you, entertain them not. If they offer to buy
any thing of you, let it be such as you can spare,
and make them give the worth of it. ’Tis like they
will plant to the south of the cape. I fear these people
will deal harshly with the savages. I pray you
signify to Squanto that they are a distinct body
from us, and that we have nothing to do with them,
neither must be blamed for their faults, nor can
warrant their fidelity.”<a id="FNanchor_370" href="#Footnote_370" class="fnanchor">[370]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span></p>

<p>Weston had overhauled these letters, and so
become familiar with their contents. After criticising
them severely, he added: “Now if you be of
the mind of these writers, deal plainly with us, and
we will seek our residence elsewhere. If you are
friendly, as we have thought you to be, give us the
entertainment of friends. I shall leave in the country
a little ship—if God send her safe thither—with
mariners and fishermen, who shall coast and trade
with the savages and the old plantation. It may be
that we shall be as helpful to you as you to us. I
think I shall see you in person next spring.”<a id="FNanchor_371" href="#Footnote_371" class="fnanchor">[371]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims were in a quandary. They stood
on the verge of starvation. The recent comers had
brought out no stock of provisions, but were dumped
destitute upon the charity of those whom they had
come to supplant. “As for the harsh censures and
suspicions intimated in these letters,” remarks Bradford,
“they desired to judge as charitably and wisely
of them as they could, weighing them in the balance
of love and reason; and though the epistles of warning
came from godly and loving friends, yet they
conceived that many things might arise from over-deep
jealousy and fear, together with unmeet provocation;
though they well saw that Weston pursued
his own ends, and was embittered in spirit. All
these things they pondered and well considered, yet
concluded to give his men friendly entertainment;
partly in regard to that gentleman’s past kindness,
and partly in compassion to the people who were now<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span>
come into the wilderness—as themselves were—and
were by their ships to be presently put ashore; for
they were to carry other passengers into Virginia;<a id="FNanchor_372" href="#Footnote_372" class="fnanchor">[372]</a>
and they were altogether unacquainted, and knew
not what to do. So, as they had received Weston’s
former company of seven men, and victualed them
as their own, now they also received these, being
about sixty lusty men, and gave housing for themselves
and their goods; and many, being sick, had
the best the place could afford them.”<a id="FNanchor_373" href="#Footnote_373" class="fnanchor">[373]</a></p>

<p>Of course, so great and unexpected an accession
of numbers added vastly to the embarrassment of
the Pilgrims, and “amidst these straits, and the
desertion of those from whom they had expected a
supply, when famine began to pinch them sore they
knew not what course to take.” But God stood
behind the cloud, “keeping watch above his own.”
One day a boat came into Plymouth, and brought
word of a massacre in Virginia,<a id="FNanchor_374" href="#Footnote_374" class="fnanchor">[374]</a> and gave a warning
to the New England colonists. The kind sender
of this message was captain of a fishing-smack then
fishing off the Maine coast.<a id="FNanchor_375" href="#Footnote_375" class="fnanchor">[375]</a></p>

<p>When this boat returned, “the governor sent
back a thankful answer, as was meet, and also despatched
the shallop of the colony in its company,
in which was Edward Winslow, whose object was to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span>
secure what provisions he could from the fishermen.
He was kindly received by the mentor captain, who
not only spared what he could of his own stock,
but wrote others to do the same. By these means
Winslow got some good quantity, and returned in
safety; whereby the plantation had a double benefit;
first, a refreshing by the food brought; and
secondly, they knew the way to those parts for their
benefit hereafter. Still, what was got and this small
boat brought, being divided among so many, came
but to little, yet, by God’s blessing, it upheld them
till harvest.”<a id="FNanchor_376" href="#Footnote_376" class="fnanchor">[376]</a> The daily allowance was a quarter
of a pound of bread to each person; and this the
governor doled out, for had it not been in his custody,
it would have been eaten up and all had
starved; but thus, with what eels they could catch,
they “made pretty shift till corn was ripe.”<a id="FNanchor_377" href="#Footnote_377" class="fnanchor">[377]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims soon perceived the truth of Cushman’s
estimate of the character of Weston’s colonists,
and found, indeed, that “they were not the
men for them.” In the lump they were a rude, profane,
improvident, thievish set, and peculiarly unfit
to be the founders of a state.<a id="FNanchor_378" href="#Footnote_378" class="fnanchor">[378]</a> They ate of the
bounty of their entertainers, wasted their corn,
brought riot and profanity into the quiet, devout
homes of the Pilgrims, and repaid kindness by
backbiting and reviling.<a id="FNanchor_379" href="#Footnote_379" class="fnanchor">[379]</a> Their coming was purely
a business affair. It was a speculation. It was entirely<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span>
destitute of every religious element, though
it abounded with irreligious ones. Fearing neither
God nor man, they hated the Puritans, and ought
never to be confounded with the Forefathers.<a id="FNanchor_380" href="#Footnote_380" class="fnanchor">[380]</a> They
were, in fact,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent10">“A lazy, lolling sort,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Unseen at church, at senate, or at court,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of ever-listless loiterers, that attend</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">No cause, no trust, no duty, and no friend.”<a id="FNanchor_381" href="#Footnote_381" class="fnanchor">[381]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p>These godless drones remained at Plymouth
most of the summer, until their ships came back
from Virginia.<a id="FNanchor_382" href="#Footnote_382" class="fnanchor">[382]</a> Then, under Weston’s direction,
or that of some one whom he had set in authority
over them, these pests removed into Massachusetts
Bay, and selecting a spot called by the Indians
Wessagusset, now Weymouth, they essayed to plant
a settlement.<a id="FNanchor_383" href="#Footnote_383" class="fnanchor">[383]</a> “Yet they left all their sickly folks
with us, to be nursed and cared for,” says Bradford,
“till they were settled and housed. But of
their stores they gave us nothing, though we did
greatly want, nor any thing else in recompense of
our courtesy; neither did we desire it, for ’twas
seen that they were an unruly company, having no
good government,—sure soon to fall into want by
disorder.”<a id="FNanchor_384" href="#Footnote_384" class="fnanchor">[384]</a></p>

<p>Such a colony “was not, nor could it come to
good.” Mismanagement and lazy improvidence invited
penury. Ere long they ran foul of the Indians;
already the bane of the Pilgrims, they speedily
became a pest among the savages, whom they robbed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span>
and swindled without conscience. In this way they
exasperated the Indians, and by their bad courses
were nigh bringing ruin on their neighbors as well
as on themselves.<a id="FNanchor_385" href="#Footnote_385" class="fnanchor">[385]</a> On one occasion they stood provisionless.
They could expect no succor from the
natives, and they had despoiled every Indian corn-field
in their vicinity. In this extremity, Sanders,
their chief man, sent to inform Bradford of his intention
to get some corn from the Indians by force.
The Pilgrims sent back a strong protest against the
pillage; advised the new planters to make shift to
live, as they did, on ground-nuts, <ins class="corr" id="tn-174" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'clams, and muscles'">
clams, and mussels</ins>; and from their own well-nigh exhausted storehouse
sent their disorderly and wasteful rivals a supply
of corn.<a id="FNanchor_386" href="#Footnote_386" class="fnanchor">[386]</a></p>

<p>This stock was soon gone; then the Westonians
desired the Pilgrims to unite with them in an expedition
to the Indian settlements on the coast-line,
in search of corn, beans, and other kindred commodities.
They, not unwilling to assist the needy
planters in all honest ways, assented, and terms of
agreement were signed designating the division of
the articles obtained.<a id="FNanchor_387" href="#Footnote_387" class="fnanchor">[387]</a> Detachments from both
colonies embarked in the “Swan,” the smaller of
Weston’s vessels, and the shallop was also taken.
Squanto accompanied the forage as interpreter.<a id="FNanchor_388" href="#Footnote_388" class="fnanchor">[388]</a>
The Indians were very shy and could hardly be approached.
But finally the kindness and tact of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span>
Bradford and Standish thawed their icy reserve,
so that the enterprise was crowned with success.
Twenty-seven hogsheads of corn and beans were
bought.<a id="FNanchor_389" href="#Footnote_389" class="fnanchor">[389]</a> Owing to the stranding of the shallop,
the Plymouth governor was compelled to foot it
home, some fifty miles; but he “received all the
respect that could be from the Indians on the
journey.”<a id="FNanchor_390" href="#Footnote_390" class="fnanchor">[390]</a></p>

<p>The “Swan” returned, a day or two later, with
the provisions, and, after their distribution, Weston’s
men sailed from Plymouth in her to their
plantation.<a id="FNanchor_391" href="#Footnote_391" class="fnanchor">[391]</a></p>

<p>This was destined to be Squanto’s last service.
A violent fever, which struck him on the expedition,
soon laid him low. “Pray for me,” said the dying
Indian to Governor Bradford, “pray for me, that I
may go to the white man’s God in heaven.” Shortly
after, he distributed various trinkets among his
English friends as memorials, and expired.<a id="FNanchor_392" href="#Footnote_392" class="fnanchor">[392]</a> Despite
his pranks and vanity, Squanto was a true
friend to the Pilgrims, and his loss was a severe
blow to the colonial interests.<a id="FNanchor_393" href="#Footnote_393" class="fnanchor">[393]</a></p>

<p>Immediately on recovering from the fatigue incident
to the late voyage, the Pilgrims went out into
their fields to reap the harvest. The crop was slender,
owing partly to the ignorance of the planters
of the culture of Indian corn; partly to their many
other employments; but chiefly to their inability<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span>
properly to attend it, caused by weakness from want
of food.<a id="FNanchor_394" href="#Footnote_394" class="fnanchor">[394]</a></p>

<p>It was apparent that famine must be entailed
upon the next year also, unless some other source
of supply should be opened. This seemed impossible.
There were no markets; and they were out
of trinkets for their Indian traffic. “Behold now
another providence of God,” says Bradford; “a
ship sent out by English merchants to discover all
the harbors betwixt Virginia and the shoals of Cape
Cod, and to trade along the coast where it could,
entered our bay. She had on board a store of
beads—which were then good trade—and some
knives, but the crew would sell nothing save in the
bunch and at high prices. However, we bought of
them, and by this means were fitted again to trade
for beaver and for corn with the red men.”<a id="FNanchor_395" href="#Footnote_395" class="fnanchor">[395]</a></p>

<p>In this same summer a new fort was built, “both
strong and comely, which was a sure defence.”
Isaac De Rasières, who visited Plymouth at a
somewhat later day, has left this description of the
block-citadel: “Upon the hill they have a large
square house, with a flat roof, made of thick-sawn
planks, stayed with oak-beams. On the top are
ranged six cannon, which shoot iron-balls of four
or five pounds, and command the surrounding
country. The lower part they use for their church,
where preaching is had on Sundays and the usual
holidays. The settlers assemble by beat of drum,
each with his musket or firelock, in front of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span>
captain’s door; they have their cloaks on, and
place themselves in order, three abreast, and are
led by a sergeant without beat of drum. Behind
comes the governor, in a long robe; beside him on
the right hand walks the preacher, and on the left
hand the captain, with his side arms and cloak on,
and with a small cane in his hand. So they march
in good order, and on reaching the fort each sets
his arms down near him and within easy grasp.”<a id="FNanchor_396" href="#Footnote_396" class="fnanchor">[396]</a></p>

<p>An open Bible in one hand, a shotted musket in
the other—such was the manner in which the Pilgrim
fathers went to church.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE EXPLOIT OF MILES STANDISH.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“And when they talk of him, they shake their heads,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And whisper one another in the ear;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer’s wrist;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Whilst he that hears makes fearful action</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">With wrinkled brows, with nods, and rolling eyes.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent34"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>One short twelvemonth witnessed the birth and
the death of Weston’s colony. Its cradle was its
grave. The Westonians, by their own wickedness
and folly, beckoned ruin and blood to be their
guests. The ears of the Pilgrims ached with listening
to the Indians’ complaints of their injustice and
robberies. Not a day passed which did not witness
some woful scene of outrage.<a id="FNanchor_397" href="#Footnote_397" class="fnanchor">[397]</a> Bradford and his
coadjutors talked themselves hoarse in denunciation;
messengers ran themselves footsore in carrying
protests of warning, of expostulation, of appeal.<a id="FNanchor_398" href="#Footnote_398" class="fnanchor">[398]</a></p>

<p>“Once,” says Cotton Mather, “in preaching to
a congregation there, one of the Pilgrims urged
these settlers to approve themselves a <em>religious</em> community,
as otherwise they would contradict the
main end of planting this wilderness; whereupon
a well-known individual, then in the assembly, cried<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span>
out, ‘Sir, you are mistaken; you think you are
preaching to the people at Plymouth bay: our <em>main
end</em> was <em>to catch fish</em>.’”<a id="FNanchor_399" href="#Footnote_399" class="fnanchor">[399]</a></p>

<p>The scoffers were soon to learn, under the bitter
tuition of experience, that fish are a slippery foundation
for a colony to build on—not so firm and
sure as open Bibles and common schools.</p>

<p>The loose morality and vicious courses of their
mischievous neighbor-colonists caused the Pilgrims
infinite trouble and unfeigned grief. And now, in
the midst of their anxiety on this account, a report
gave voice to the dangerous sickness of Massasoit;<a id="FNanchor_400" href="#Footnote_400" class="fnanchor">[400]</a>
it was said that the great sagamore, who had been
their faithful friend, could not survive.<a id="FNanchor_401" href="#Footnote_401" class="fnanchor">[401]</a> The Plymouth
settlers were profoundly sad; they were also
somewhat alarmed, for Corbitant, their former open
foe, would, so they were told, clutch Massasoit’s
sceptre and wear his mantle on the chieftain’s
death.<a id="FNanchor_402" href="#Footnote_402" class="fnanchor">[402]</a> The Pilgrims at once decided to send
ambassadors to visit Massasoit, see if haply something
might not be done for him, and, in case of
his decease, to negotiate a new peace with the succeeding
sachem.<a id="FNanchor_403" href="#Footnote_403" class="fnanchor">[403]</a></p>

<p>For this service Winslow and Habbamak were
selected; and a gentleman who had wintered in
Plymouth, and who was desirous of seeing the Indians
in their wigwam-homes, Mr. John Hampden,<a id="FNanchor_404" href="#Footnote_404" class="fnanchor">[404]</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span>
was, at his urgent solicitation, permitted to bear
them company.<a id="FNanchor_405" href="#Footnote_405" class="fnanchor">[405]</a></p>

<p>They set out at once, but had not gone very
deep into the forest ere some Indians, whom they
met at a river-ford, told them that Massasoit was
dead. The envoys were shocked; and Habbamak
began to wail forth his chief’s death-song: “Oh,
great sachem, Oh, great heart, with many have I
been acquainted, but none ever equalled thee.”
Then turning to his pale-face friend, he said, “Oh,
Master Winslow, his like you will never see again.
He was not like other Indians, false and bloody
and implacable; but kind, easily appeased when
angry, and reasonable in his requirements. He
was a wise sachem, not ashamed to ask advice,
governing better with mild, than other chiefs did
with severe measures. I fear you have not now
one faithful friend left in the wigwams of the red
men.”<a id="FNanchor_406" href="#Footnote_406" class="fnanchor">[406]</a> He would then break forth again in loud
lamentations, “enough,” says Winslow, “to have
made the hardest heart sob and wail.”<a id="FNanchor_407" href="#Footnote_407" class="fnanchor">[407]</a></p>

<p>But time pressed, and Winslow, bidding Habbamak
“leave wringing of his hands,” trudged on
over the patches of snow, through the naked forests
shivering in the gusty winds of March, under
the sullen sky. Corbitant’s lodge was near; here
it was hoped that fuller intelligence might be gained.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span>
Corbitant was not at home, but his squaw
informed them that Massasoit was not yet dead,
though he could scarcely live long enough to permit
his visitors to close his eyes.<a id="FNanchor_408" href="#Footnote_408" class="fnanchor">[408]</a></p>

<p>Reinvigorated by this news, and persuaded that
while there was life there was hope, the envoys
again pressed forward with eager footsteps. Soon
Massasoit’s wigwam was reached. A cordon of
visitors surrounded it; and so great was the crowd,
that it was with difficulty that the Pilgrims pushed
through and gained an entrance. “When they
succeeded, they beheld a scene so repulsive and so
annoying as to be quite sufficient to banish whatever
vitality the sick sagamore might still possess.
Not only was the lodge crammed with filthy Indians,
whose number effectually excluded all fresh
air, but the pow-wows were busied in yelling their
magical incantations, now rubbing the sick sachem,
now wailing, now making frantic gestures; so that,
had the disease possessed intelligence and been
cognizant of what was taking place, it would have
been effectually frightened away. Six or eight
‘medicine-men’ were manipulating him at once,
and his ears were dinned with yells, when he should
have been perfectly quiet.”<a id="FNanchor_409" href="#Footnote_409" class="fnanchor">[409]</a></p>

<p>When the pow-wows had concluded their superstitious
spells and exorcisms, they told Massasoit
that Winslow had come to visit him. The sick Indian,
turning on his skin couch, greeted the Englishman
kindly. Disease had almost choked him,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span>
and quite robbed him of sight; he was indeed near
death. Winslow at once conveyed the assurance
of the deep grief of the colonists at his sickness,
informed him that the pale-faces had sent physic
for his restoration to health, and offered himself
to undertake the cure. These words, being translated
by Habbamak, the Indian at once and cordially
thanked Winslow, and accepted his good
offices.<a id="FNanchor_410" href="#Footnote_410" class="fnanchor">[410]</a></p>

<p>The skilful Englishman, with a “confection of
many comfortable conserves,” soon worked a cure.
The convalescent sagamore said, “Now I know that
the English are indeed my friends, and love me;
while I live I will never forget this kindness.”<a id="FNanchor_411" href="#Footnote_411" class="fnanchor">[411]</a>
Nobly did he keep his word; for, after requesting
“the pale-face medicine” to exercise his skill upon
others of his tribe, who were down with the same
disease which had laid him low, his gratitude was
so warm that he disclosed to the pale-face leech the
fact that a wide-spread and well-matured conspiracy
was afoot to exterminate Weston’s colony, in
revenge for injuries heaped upon the Indians; that
all the northeastern tribes were in the league; and
that the massacre was to cover the Pilgrims also,
lest they should avenge the fall of their neighbors.
“A chief was here at the setting of the sun,” added
Massasoit, “and he told me that the pale-faces did
not love me, else they would visit me in my pain,
and he urged me to join the war party. But I said,
No. Now if you take the chiefs of the league, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span>
kill them, it will end the war-trail in the blood of
those who made it, and save the settlements.”<a id="FNanchor_412" href="#Footnote_412" class="fnanchor">[412]</a></p>

<p>Thankful to Massasoit for this disclosure, and
profoundly impressed with its importance, the envoys
speedily bade the sagamore good-by, and
started for Plymouth. Reaching Corbitant’s lodge
towards evening, they decided to sleep with him.
“We found him,” says Winslow, “a notable politician,
yet full of merry jests and squibs, and never
better pleased than when the like are turned again
on him.”<a id="FNanchor_413" href="#Footnote_413" class="fnanchor">[413]</a></p>

<p>“If I were sick, as Massasoit has been,” asked
he, “would Mr. Governor send me medicine?”</p>

<p>“Yes,” said Winslow.</p>

<p>“Would you bring it?” queried Corbitant.</p>

<p>“Certainly,” was the reply.</p>

<p>At this the sachem was delighted. He resumed
his questions.</p>

<p>“How did you dare to go so far into our hunting-grounds,
with only one pale-face and Habbamak?”</p>

<p>“Because,” said Winslow, “where there is true
love, there can be no fear; my heart is so upright
towards the Indians, that I have no cause to fear to
go among them.”</p>

<p>“If you love us so much,” retorted the shrewd
chief, “why is it that, when we go to Plymouth,
you stand on guard, and present the mouths of
your big guns at us?”</p>

<p>“Oh,” was the reply, “that’s the most honorable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span>
reception we could give you. ’Tis the English
way of saluting distinguished guests.”</p>

<p>“Ugh,” said Corbitant, with the peculiar Indian
grunt and shrug, “perhaps; but I don’t like such
ways of shaking hands.”<a id="FNanchor_414" href="#Footnote_414" class="fnanchor">[414]</a></p>

<p>Having noticed that before and after each meal
his guests offered thanks, Corbitant asked them why
they did it. “This led to a long conversation upon
the character and works of the great Father; on
the relations which his creatures sustain to him as
their preserver and constant benefactor, and the
duties which all owe to him as such, with which the
chief seemed pleased. When the ten commandments
were recited, he approved of all save the
seventh; he saw many objections to tying a man
to one woman.”<a id="FNanchor_415" href="#Footnote_415" class="fnanchor">[415]</a></p>

<p>“This,” says Banvard, “is a specimen of the
manner in which the Pilgrims endeavored to communicate
religious truths to the minds of their ignorant
Indian neighbors. When among them, they observed
religious exercises at their meals; continued
the practice of morning and evening services; strictly
regarded the Sabbath; and thus provoked inquiries.
Then, when opportunity was given, they imparted,
in a homely, familiar way, the elementary truths of
the Bible.”<a id="FNanchor_416" href="#Footnote_416" class="fnanchor">[416]</a></p>

<p>After passing a pleasant night in Corbitant’s
wigwam, the Pilgrims resumed their journey, and
after twenty-four hours’ walk reached Plymouth.</p>

<p>They immediately imparted what they knew of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span>
the Indian plot to the governor. Bradford summoned
the settlers to deliberate. Upon examination
other evidence was found which corroborated
Massasoit’s disclosure; and even in the midst of
this consideration, one of Weston’s pioneers came
in, like Bunyan’s Pilgrim, “with a pack on his
back;” and “though he knew not a foot of the way,
yet he got safe to Plymouth by losing his way,” as
he was pursued by the Indians, and would have
been caught had he travelled by the accustomed
track.<a id="FNanchor_417" href="#Footnote_417" class="fnanchor">[417]</a></p>

<p>“He told us,” says Bradford, “how affairs stood
at Wessagusset; how miserable all were; and that he
dare not tarry there longer, as, by what he had observed,
he apprehended those settlers would shortly
be all knocked in the head.”<a id="FNanchor_418" href="#Footnote_418" class="fnanchor">[418]</a></p>

<p>Startled by the imminence of the peril, Bradford
at once despatched Standish with a small squad of
men to warn and succor the menaced colonists.
On reaching Wessagusset Standish boarded the
“Swan,” which lay moored in the harbor. Not a
soul was on her. Surprised, the Pilgrim captain fired
his musket. Several colonists then ran down to the
shore. “How dare you leave your ship unguarded,
and live in so much security?” asked he. “Why,”
was the reply of the colonists, who were insensible
of their peril, “we have no fear of the Indians, but
live with them, and suffer them to lodge with us,
without ever having a gun or sword, or ever needing
one.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span></p>

<p>“Well, well,” cried Standish, “if you have no occasion
for vigilance, so much the better.” He then
went ashore. Pitiful was the situation of the pioneers;
four words paint the picture; filth, hunger,
disease, nakedness. “After they began to come
into want,” remarks the old Pilgrim chronicler,
“many sold their clothes and bed-coverings; others—so
base were they—became servants to the
Indians, and would cut wood and fetch water for
them, for a cup of corn; some fell to stealing, and
when they found the hiding-places where the natives
stored their corn, they despoiled them, and this
night and day, while the savages complained grievously.
Now they were come to such misery that
some starved and some died of cold. One, in gathering
shell-fish, was so weak from hunger that he
stuck fast in the mud, and not being able to pull clear,
he was drowned by the incoming tide. Most had
left their cabins and were scattered up and down
through the woods and by the water-side, here six
and there ten, grubbing for nuts and clams. By
this carriage they were contemned and scorned by
the Indians as ‘pale-face squaws,’ and they insulted
over them right insolently; insomuch that many
times, as they lay thus scattered abroad, and had
set a pot over a fire and filled it with ground-nuts
or shell-fish, when it was ready the natives would
come and, pushing them aside, eat it up; and at
night the Indians, to revenge their thefts, stole their
blankets and left them to lie all night in the cold.
Yea, in the end, they were fain to hang one of their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span>
own men, whom they could not reclaim from stealing,
at the dictation of the savages.”<a id="FNanchor_419" href="#Footnote_419" class="fnanchor">[419]</a></p>

<p>Standish at once assembled the leading colonists,
and opened to them his budget of news. The
proposed massacre, the actors, all was laid bare.
As frightened now as they were blinded before, all
besought him to save them, and placed themselves
in his hands. All stragglers were called in and supplied
from his stores, a pint of corn a day for each
man. This done, Standish began to dissemble; he
wished to lure the chiefs of the conspiracy into his
clutches, and so fight guile with guile.<a id="FNanchor_420" href="#Footnote_420" class="fnanchor">[420]</a></p>

<p>Though suspecting that their plot had been discovered,
the Indians so greatly despised the colonists
that they came daily into Wessagusset, uttering
gibes and menaces loud and deep. They even
ventured to taunt Standish. One of the braves,
Pecksuot, a bold fellow, but a braggadocio, “went
to Habbamak, who was with Standish as his interpreter,
and told him that he had been informed that
the captain had come to ‘kill him and his friends.’
‘Tell him,’ he said, ‘we know it, but we neither fear
him nor will we shun him; let him attack us when
he pleases, he will not surprise us.’”<a id="FNanchor_421" href="#Footnote_421" class="fnanchor">[421]</a></p>

<p>At other times the Indians would enter the plantation,
and, in the presence of the captain, sharpen
their knives, feel their points, and jeer. One of their
chiefs, Witawamat, often boasted of the fine qualities
of his knife, on the handle of which was cut a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span>
woman’s face; “but,” said he, “I have another at
home with which I have killed both French and English,
and that hath a man’s face on it; by-and-by these
two must marry.”<a id="FNanchor_422" href="#Footnote_422" class="fnanchor">[422]</a> Not long after, he said again,
holding up his knife, “By-and-by this shall see and
eat, but not speak,” in allusion to the muskets of
the English, which always reported their doings.<a id="FNanchor_423" href="#Footnote_423" class="fnanchor">[423]</a></p>

<p>Pecksuot was an Indian of immense muscular
size and strength; Standish was a small man.
Once the brave said to the captain: “You are a
great officer, but a little man; and I am not a
sachem, yet I possess great strength and courage.”<a id="FNanchor_424" href="#Footnote_424" class="fnanchor">[424]</a></p>

<p>Standish quietly pocketed these insults, and
awaited his chance. It soon came. Pecksuot,
Wetawamat, and two others, chiefs of the conspiracy,
were finally all entrapped in one cabin.
Standish with three comrades and Habbamak were
also present. The door was secured and a terrific
death-grapple at once ensued. There were no
shrieks, no cries, no war-whoops. Nothing was
heard save the fierce panting of the combatants
and the dull thud of the blows given and returned.
Habbamak stood quietly by, and meddled not.
Soon the Englishmen were successful; each slew
his opponent, and Standish himself closing with
Pecksuot, snatched from the braggadocio’s neck
his vaunted knife, and plunged it into his foeman’s
heart. One blow did not kill him; frenzied and
glaring, he leaped on Standish and tugged wildly
at his throat. The struggle was brief but awful,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span>
and Standish called his whole skill into requisition
to complete his victory. At length the death-blow
was dealt:</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“See, his face is black and full of blood;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">His eye-balls farther out than when he lived;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">His hair upreared, his nostrils stretched with struggling;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasped</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And tugged for life, and was by strength subdued.”<a id="FNanchor_425" href="#Footnote_425" class="fnanchor">[425]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p>After the tragedy was over, Habbamak said to
Standish, while a smile played over his swarthy
features: “Yesterday, Pecksuot, bragging of his
strength and stature, said you were a great captain,
but a little man; but to-day I see that you are big
enough to lay him on the ground.”<a id="FNanchor_426" href="#Footnote_426" class="fnanchor">[426]</a></p>

<p>Standish did not pause for congratulation, nor
did he care much for it; knowing the value of
promptitude, he at once headed a foray on the
neighboring Indian villages. Several skirmishes
ensued; the savages, beaten and terrified, retreated
from morass to morass. The conspiracy was buried
with its originators; and many of the sachems who
had joined the league, Conacum, Aspinet, Iyanough,
died from diseases contracted in their headlong
flight.<a id="FNanchor_427" href="#Footnote_427" class="fnanchor">[427]</a></p>

<p>This was considered the “capital exploit” of
Miles Standish. It struck such wholesome terror
into the hearts of the surrounding tribes, that, in
connection with the uniform justice and kindliness of
the Pilgrims, it secured peace for half a century.<a id="FNanchor_428" href="#Footnote_428" class="fnanchor">[428]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span></p>

<p>The Westonians, discouraged and disgusted,
resolved to break their ranks and give up their settlement.
Standish “offered to escort them to Plymouth,
and give them entertainment till Weston or
some supply should come,” says Bradford; “or if
they liked any other course better, he promised to
help them all he could. They thanked him, but
most of them desired him to grant them some corn,
then they would go with their ship to the eastward,
where, haply, they might hear of Weston, or of
some supply from him. That failing, since it was
the time of year for ships to frequent the fishing
waters, they could work among the fishermen till
they could get passage into England. So they
shipped what they had of any value, and the captain
gave them all the corn he could—scarcely leaving
himself sufficient to take him home—and saw
the colonists well out of the bay; then he himself
sailed back to Plymouth in triumph.”<a id="FNanchor_429" href="#Footnote_429" class="fnanchor">[429]</a></p>

<p>There the head of Wetawamat was impaled, and
set up prominently in the fort; and an Indian who
had been sent in pursuit of that pioneer who had
first brought word to the Pilgrims of the condition
of his fellow-settlers, and had been himself captured,
recognized it. The Pilgrim Fathers were not
revengeful; they did not love to shed blood; so
when Habbamak vouched for the friendship of this
captive, he was liberated, and sent home to tell his
tribe that the colonists loved peace, but that they
could fight in case of need. Ere long the offending<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span>
red men sent peace-offerings into Plymouth, and
sued for and obtained amity.<a id="FNanchor_430" href="#Footnote_430" class="fnanchor">[430]</a></p>

<p>Bradford, Winslow, and the rest, kept their
friends in England and Holland as fully informed
as possible of the daily history of the colony; and
of course so memorable an event as this conspiracy
and its suppression, received a profuse recital.
When Robinson heard of the rencontre, he wrote
back these words, finely illustrative of his character:
“Oh, how happy a thing had it been, that you
had converted some before you killed any.”<a id="FNanchor_431" href="#Footnote_431" class="fnanchor">[431]</a></p>

<p>As for Weston’s colony, this was the last of it.
Some of the better of the pioneers went to Plymouth;
others finally found their way back to England.
They had landed under far better auspices
than the Pilgrims. They were welcomed by
fellow-countrymen, and sheltered throughout the
winter. They commenced their settlement in the
summer, when nature laughed, and the hill-sides
were gay with flowers, and the air sweet with the
songs of birds. They possessed a ship. <ins class="corr" id="tn-191" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'They had had been left'">
They had been left</ins> competently provided in the wilderness.
Yet they were no sooner <em>settled</em> than they
were <em>unsettled</em>. Bankrupt and starving, they sought
safety in flight. This was the fate of a colony
whose “main end was to fish,” which was founded
on no higher law than the greed of gain.</p>

<p>“‘Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit
for the public,’ observed the childless Lord Bacon,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span>
with complacent self-love, ‘have proceeded from
the unmarried or childless men.’ Weston’s company,
after having boasted of their strength as far
superior to Plymouth, which was enfeebled, they
said, by the presence of women and children, yet
owed their deliverance to the colony that had many
women, children, and weak ones, with them.”<a id="FNanchor_432" href="#Footnote_432" class="fnanchor">[432]</a></p>

<p>Thus it should seem that weakness is sometimes
strength. Ethics are better buoys than numbers.
Devout weakness is always stronger than self-complacent
and impious strength. Justice and a helpful
hand—these are the palladiums.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Too happy were men, if they understood</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">There is no safety but in doing good.”<a id="FNanchor_433" href="#Footnote_433" class="fnanchor">[433]</a></div>
</div>
</div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.<br>
<span class="fs80">A CHECKERED RECORD.</span></h2>


<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Naught shall prevail against us, or disturb</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Is full of blessings.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent31"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>A few weeks after the final abandonment of
Wessagusset by Weston’s colonists, a fishing-smack
dropped anchor off Plymouth. A boat was lowered,
and in a trice an Englishman, in the guise of
a blacksmith, was landed. He seemed anxious to
learn the condition and prospects of Weston’s settlement,
and was evidently ignorant of its untoward
fate. On being informed of the conspiracy, massacre,
and abandonment of the project, he seemed to
be profoundly agitated. This stranger was Weston
himself, once a prosperous London merchant, now
alone in the wilderness, a ruined man. “A strange
alteration there was in him to those who had known
him in his former flourishing condition,” moralizes
the old Plymouth governor; “so uncertain are the
mutable things of this unstable world. And yet
men set their hearts upon them, though they daily
see the vanity thereof.”<a id="FNanchor_434" href="#Footnote_434" class="fnanchor">[434]</a></p>

<p>Weston was anxious to know the worst. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span>
also hoped that something might yet be saved.
He sailed in a shallop for the seat of his downfallen
venture. But misfortune dogged him. He was
shipwrecked, and cast ashore with nothing but the
clothes upon his person. Soon after, being discovered
by the Indians, he was stripped even of these,
and left to find his way nude to the coast of Maine.
This he did; and borrowing a suit of clothes from
the fishermen, he returned to Plymouth in a pitiable
plight, and begged the loan of some beaver-skins
as a stock in trade to commence life anew.<a id="FNanchor_435" href="#Footnote_435" class="fnanchor">[435]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims were themselves in a sad strait,
“but they pitied his case, and remembered former
courtesies. They told him he saw their want, and
that they knew not when they should have a supply;
also how the case stood betwixt the Merchant-adventurers
and themselves, which he well knew.
They said they had not much beaver, and if they
should let him have it, it might create a mutiny,
since the colony had no other means of procuring
food and clothes, both which they sadly needed.
Yet they told him they would help him, considering
his necessity, but must do it secretly; so they let
him have one hundred beaver-skins. Thus they
helped him when all the world failed him, and he
was enabled to go again to the ships, buy provisions,
and equip himself. But he requited his benefactors
ill, for he proved afterwards a bitter enemy
on all occasions, and repaid his debt in nothing but
reproaches and evil words. Yea, he divulged it to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span>
some that were none of their best friends, while he
yet had the beaver in his boat, and boasted that he
could now set them all by the ears, because they
had done more than they could answer in letting
him have the skins. But his malice could not prevail.”<a id="FNanchor_436" href="#Footnote_436" class="fnanchor">[436]</a></p>

<p>Strangled by this episode, Weston was now dead
to the Pilgrims, and he disappears from the after-history
of Plymouth.<a id="FNanchor_437" href="#Footnote_437" class="fnanchor">[437]</a></p>

<p>Through all these months, hunger continued to
gnaw the vitals of the Pilgrim colony. To secure a
plentiful future, they decided to plant a large grain-crop
this spring. But the labor of the settlers was
hampered by an abnormal social arrangement.
Plymouth fretted under an agreement which robbed
work of its spur and its crown. Up to the
month of April, 1623, a community of interest was
strictly maintained. This did not arise from any
peculiar fantastic notions among the colonists, but
was required by a clause—reluctantly assented to—of
their engagement with the Merchant-adventurers
in England.<a id="FNanchor_438" href="#Footnote_438" class="fnanchor">[438]</a> The contract tied the Pilgrims to the
communal plan for a specified season.<a id="FNanchor_439" href="#Footnote_439" class="fnanchor">[439]</a> Land was
not to be owned by individuals; it was common;
each man cultivated what he pleased, and threw
the product of his labor into the general store.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span>
From the stock thus gained overseers supplied the
settlers in equal quantities.<a id="FNanchor_440" href="#Footnote_440" class="fnanchor">[440]</a></p>

<p>Infinite were the vexations, multitudinous were
the trials, which resulted. Now a general meeting
was called, and this question was anxiously discussed.
Finally it was decided, though only for
reasons of the sternest necessity, to deviate somewhat
from the form of the contract.</p>

<p>As the communal idea has, in our day, won wide
favor with theorists and ideal dreamers, we subjoin
and commend the weighty words of Bradford, who
had experienced the evils of that vicious system, to
the Fourierite philosophers:</p>

<p>“At length, after much debate, the governor,
with the advice of the chiefest among the Pilgrims,
gave way that each man should set corn for his
individual benefit, and in that respect trust to himself;
though, remembering the contract, all other
things were to go on in the communal way till time
freed them. So to every family a parcel of land
was assigned, but only for present use, no division
for inheritance being made, and all boys and youth
were ranged under some family. This had good
success, for it made all hands very industrious; so
that much more corn was planted than otherwise
would have been by any means the governor could
have brought to bear. He was saved a deal of
trouble, and the division gave great content. Even
the women went into the field, taking with them
their little ones, who before would allege weakness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span>
and inability, and whom to have compelled would
have been thought grievously tyrannical.</p>

<p>“The experience which was had in this common
interest and condition, tried sundry years, and that
among godly and sober men, may well evince the
vanity of that conceit of Plato and of other ancients,
applauded by some of later times; that the
abolition of individual property, and the introduction
of a community of wealth, would make men
happy and flourishing. This community, so far as
it went at Plymouth, was found to breed much confusion
and discontent, and to retard labor. The
young men, that were most able and fit for service,
did repine that they should spend their time and
strength in working for the families of others,
without other recompense than a bare subsistence.
The strong man and the man of parts had no greater
share than he that was weak, and not able to do a
quarter the other could. This was thought injustice.
The aged and graver sort—ranked and equalized
with the meaner and younger men in the division
of labor and provisions—esteemed it some indignity
and disrespect unto their gray heads. And for
men’s wives to be bidden to do service for others,
as dressing meat and washing clothes, they deemed
it a kind of slavery which many husbands could not
well brook. So if this arrangement did not cut off
those relations which God hath set amongst men,
yet it did at least much diminish and take off the
mutual respect that should be preserved amongst
them, and destroyed individuality. And things<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span>
would have been worse, had the Pilgrims been
more of a different condition. Let none object that
this is man’s corruption, and nothing to the philosophy
<i lang="la">per se</i>. Yes; but since all men have this corruption
in them, God in his wisdom saw another
course fitter for them.”<a id="FNanchor_441" href="#Footnote_441" class="fnanchor">[441]</a></p>

<p>When the Pilgrims had finished planting, they
knew that many weary weeks must elapse ere they
could reap what they had sown. Meantime “all
their victuals were spent, and they rested on God’s
providence alone, many times not knowing at night
where to get a bit of any thing the next day; so
that, as has been well said, they, above all people
in the world, had occasion to pray God to give
them their daily bread.”<a id="FNanchor_442" href="#Footnote_442" class="fnanchor">[442]</a></p>

<p>As the colonists had “but one boat left, and she
not over-well fitted, they were divided into gangs of
six or seven each, and so went out with a net they
had bought, to take bass and such like fish by
course, each company knowing its turn. No sooner
was the boat discharged of what she had brought
than the next gang took her. Nor did they return
till they had caught something, though it were five
or six days before; for they knew there was nothing
at home, and to return empty-handed would be
a great discouragement to the rest. Yea, they
strove which should do best. If the boat was gone
over-long or got little, then all went to the shore to
seek shell-fish, which at low water they dug from
the sand. They also got now and then a deer, one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span>
or two of the fittest being appointed to range the
woods; and the meat thus gotten was fairly divided.
All these wants were borne with great patience and
alacrity of spirit.”<a id="FNanchor_443" href="#Footnote_443" class="fnanchor">[443]</a> God was thanked for what he
gave, and for the rest all hoped.</p>

<p>The unusually large corn-crop just planted led
the Pilgrims to believe that the approaching harvest
would definitively stop the hungry mouth of
their necessities; but, alas, this expectation seemed
about to be blasted. A severe drought met them
in the opening months of the summer. From the
middle of May to the middle of July there was no
rain. All nature seemed to pant with thirst. The
streams dwindled, and ceased to laugh. The summer
foliage seemed in the “sear and yellow leaf”
of autumn. The flowers held out their parched and
shrivelled tongues. The sprouting corn began to
wither in the blade. Famine seemed inevitable.
In this emergency, the devout Pilgrims resorted to
the “mercy-seat,” and besought Him who had so
often appeared to succor them to aid them now.
A special day of fasting and prayer was appointed;
and we may still</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent8">“hear the Pilgrims’ peaceful prayer</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Swelling along the silent air,</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">Amid the forest wild.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>It has been well said, that answers to prayer
do not generally come with <em>observation</em>. They are
often sent in a way which is hid from most persons,
and frequently even from those who receive them.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span>
There are, however, instances in which these answers
are so striking as to be visible to all. Some
instances of this kind may be found in the early
history of New England.<a id="FNanchor_444" href="#Footnote_444" class="fnanchor">[444]</a></p>

<p>On this occasion the day, which was kept with
marked earnestness and solemnity, opened with a
cloudless sky, while the sun poured its clear, scorching
rays full upon the shrinking plains; but lo, says
Winslow in his recital, ere the close of the services,
“the sky was overcast, the clouds gathered on all
sides, and on the next morning distilled such soft,
sweet, and moderate showers of rain, continuing
some fourteen days, and mixed with such seasonable
weather, as it was hard to say whether our withered
corn or our drooping affections were most
quickened and revived, such was the bounty and
goodness of our God.”<a id="FNanchor_445" href="#Footnote_445" class="fnanchor">[445]</a></p>

<p>Habbamak, who was in Plymouth at this time,
exclaimed as the rain began to fall, “Now I see
that the Englishman’s God is a good God, for he
has heard you, and sent you rain, and that without
storms and tempests, which we usually have with
our rain, and which beat down our corn; but yours
stands whole and erect still; surely your God is a
good God.”<a id="FNanchor_446" href="#Footnote_446" class="fnanchor">[446]</a></p>

<p>But while these timely and gentle showers saved
their crop and secured the future, the pinching want
of the passing days was not stayed. Indeed, so bitter
grew the famine, that on one occasion the colony<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span>
was reduced to a single pint of corn; which, when
divided among the Pilgrims, gave each five kernels.<a id="FNanchor_447" href="#Footnote_447" class="fnanchor">[447]</a></p>

<p>During the height of this suffering, a package of
home-letters was received. From these the settlers
gleaned some news which was of interest to them.
It seems that Mr. John Pierce, in whose name their
patent had been taken,<a id="FNanchor_448" href="#Footnote_448" class="fnanchor">[448]</a> had grown covetous, and
attempted to play both the Pilgrims and the Merchant-adventurers
false. When he saw “how hopefully
the Plymouth colony was seated,” the trustee
grew desirous of becoming lord-proprietary, and
holding them as his tenants, “to sue in his courts
as lord.”<a id="FNanchor_449" href="#Footnote_449" class="fnanchor">[449]</a> So he surreptitiously sued out a new
patent, of much larger extent, in his own name,
and then fitted out an expedition headed by himself,
to go and take possession of his usurped
domain.<a id="FNanchor_450" href="#Footnote_450" class="fnanchor">[450]</a> But “God marvellously crossed him.”
“Having sailed no farther than the Downs,” says
Cotton Mather, “his ship <ins class="corr" id="tn-201" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'sprang aleak'">
sprang a leak</ins>; and besides
this disaster, which alone was enough to have
stopped the voyage, one strand of the cable was
accidentally cut, by which means it broke in a stress
of wind, and all were in extreme danger of being
wrecked upon the sands. Having with much cost
recruited this loss, and increased the number of
emigrants, Pierce again put to sea; but in mid-ocean<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span>
one of the saddest and longest storms known
since the days of the apostle Paul drove the ship
home to England once more, the vessel well-nigh
torn to pieces, and the emigrants, though all saved,
weary and affrighted. Pierce, by all his tumbling
backward and forward, was by this time grown so
sick of his patent that he vomited it up. He assigned
it over to the home company;<a id="FNanchor_451" href="#Footnote_451" class="fnanchor">[451]</a> but they
afterwards obtained another, under the umbrage
whereof they could more effectually carry on the
affairs of their colony.”<a id="FNanchor_452" href="#Footnote_452" class="fnanchor">[452]</a></p>

<p>The letter from the Merchant-adventurers, which
recited these facts, closed with a cheering promise:
“We have agreed with two merchants for a ship of
a hundred and forty tons, called the ‘Anne,’ which is
to be ready the last of this month of April, to bring
sixty passengers and sixty tons of goods to you.”<a id="FNanchor_453" href="#Footnote_453" class="fnanchor">[453]</a></p>

<p>While the Pilgrims, enlivened by this news,
were living on hope and five kernels of corn, they
received a visitor. Captain Francis West, admiral
of New England, who sailed under a commission to
prevent all trading and fishing on the coast-line
without a license from the Home Council, called at
Plymouth. Of him the necessitous Pilgrims purchased
a few edibles at high prices.<a id="FNanchor_454" href="#Footnote_454" class="fnanchor">[454]</a> The old
sailor’s mission failed; the fishermen were too
strong and independent to be repressed. Ere long,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span>
on their petition, Parliament decreed that fishing
should be free.<a id="FNanchor_455" href="#Footnote_455" class="fnanchor">[455]</a></p>

<p>Two weeks after the departure of West, the
promised reinforcements arrived; the “Anne” landed
her recruits, and a goodly store of provisions
besides.<a id="FNanchor_456" href="#Footnote_456" class="fnanchor">[456]</a></p>

<p>So low was the colonial larder, that “the best
dish they could present their friends with was a
lobster or a piece of fish, without bread, or any
thing else but a cup of fair spring water.”<a id="FNanchor_457" href="#Footnote_457" class="fnanchor">[457]</a></p>

<p>The “Anne” was shortly followed by the “Little
James,” a vessel of forty-four tons burden, “built
to stay in the country.”<a id="FNanchor_458" href="#Footnote_458" class="fnanchor">[458]</a></p>

<p>“Among the pioneers just arrived,” says Cotton
Mather, “were divers worthy and useful men, who
were come to seek the welfare of this little Israel;
though at their coming they were as differently
affected as the rebuilders of the temple at Jerusalem;
some were grieved when they saw how bad
the condition of their friends was, and others were
glad that it was no worse.”<a id="FNanchor_459" href="#Footnote_459" class="fnanchor">[459]</a></p>

<p>Among the arrivals at this time “were, Cuthbertson,
a member of the Leyden church, the wives
of Fuller and Coake, and two daughters of Brewster.
There were at least twelve ladies. One of
these became the wife of Bradford; Standish married
another. Alice Southworth, Bradford’s second<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span>
wife, is said to have been his first love. Both being
widowed, a correspondence took place, in the sequel
of which she came out from England, and married
her some-time lover at Plymouth.”<a id="FNanchor_460" href="#Footnote_460" class="fnanchor">[460]</a></p>

<p>“Some of your old friends go to you with these
lines,” wrote Cushman; “they come dropping to
you, and by degrees I hope ere long you shall enjoy
them all.”<a id="FNanchor_461" href="#Footnote_461" class="fnanchor">[461]</a></p>

<p>Now also this commercial partnership beheld
a vision of the immortal renown to which its humble
agents were destined. “Let it not be grievous
to you,” wrote the prescient scribe of the Home
Company, “that you have been instruments to break
the ice for others who came after you with less difficulty;
the honor shall be yours to the world’s end.
We bear you always in our hearts, and our cordial
affection is toward you all, as are the hearts of hundreds
more who never saw your faces, but who pray
for your safety as for their own, that the same God
who hath so marvellously preserved you from seas,
foes, famine, will still preserve you from all future
dangers, and make you honorable among men and
glorious in bliss at the last day.”<a id="FNanchor_462" href="#Footnote_462" class="fnanchor">[462]</a></p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.<br>
<span class="fs80">WOLVES IN THE SHEEPFOLD.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“I, under fair pretence of friendly ends,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">With well-placed words of glozing courtesy,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Baited with reason not unplausible,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Wind me into the easy-hearted man,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And hug him into snares.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent24"><span class="smcap">Milton’s</span> <cite>Comus</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>The Plymouth colonists were men of active enterprise.
They were miserly of time, and hoarded
their hours. They were also anxious to please the
Merchant-adventurers. So now, as quickly as might
be, the “Anne” was laden with clapboards, beaver-skins,
and divers furs; letters whose every line was
a loving pulsation, were indited to the lingering absentees
at Leyden and to home circles in England;
and on the 10th of September, 1623, the vessel
sailed, carrying with her Edward Winslow, who was
sent over to report progress, and to procure such
necessities as were demanded by the imperious
wants of the expanding colony.<a id="FNanchor_463" href="#Footnote_463" class="fnanchor">[463]</a></p>

<p>After watching the “Anne” until she dipped
below the horizon, the pilgrims returned from the
shore and prepared to go into the harvest field.
This season “God gave them plenty, and the face
of things was changed, to the grateful rejoicing of
all hearts.” The granaries were filled. Some of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span>
the abler and more industrious had to spare, and
the perturbed ghost of famine, which had so long
haunted Plymouth, was definitively laid.<a id="FNanchor_464" href="#Footnote_464" class="fnanchor">[464]</a></p>

<p>Many attributed this plenteous harvest to the
partial abandonment of the communal plan, and in
consequence the desire for complete emancipation
from its thraldom became more general and earnest.<a id="FNanchor_465" href="#Footnote_465" class="fnanchor">[465]</a></p>

<p>Some of the late comers had sailed not under
articles of agreement with the company of Merchant-adventurers,
but on their individual account;
so they landed free from those conditions which
shackled the elder settlers. Under these circumstances
it was thought fit, ere these outsiders were
received and permitted to settle and build in Plymouth,
to exact of them certain specified conditions
precedent. So reasonable a requisition won ready
assent, and an agreement was signed to this effect:
The colony on its part, the outsiders on theirs, covenanted
to show each the other all reasonable courtesies;
all were to be alike subject to such laws
and orders as were already made, or might thereafter
be made, for the public good; the outsiders were
freed and exempted from the general employments
which the communal condition required of its participants,
except for purposes of defence and such
work as tended to the lasting welfare of the colony;
they were taxed for the maintenance of the government,
and debarred from traffic with the Indians
for their individual profit, until the expiration of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span>
the seven years which tied the colonists to the communality.<a id="FNanchor_466" href="#Footnote_466" class="fnanchor">[466]</a></p>

<p>Towards the middle of September, while the Pilgrims
were in the midst of their harvest labors, Robert
Gorges, a son of Sir Ferdinand Gorges, famous
as a <i lang="fr">voyageur</i> and discoverer, sailed into Plymouth
bay.<a id="FNanchor_467" href="#Footnote_467" class="fnanchor">[467]</a> He had recently returned from the Venetian
wars, and now came armed with a commission from
the New England council as governor-general of the
territory from Acadia to Narragansett Bay.<a id="FNanchor_468" href="#Footnote_468" class="fnanchor">[468]</a> With
him were families of emigrants equipped to commence
a settlement, and a learned and worthy clergyman
of the English church, William Morrel, an
important item of whose mission was to “exercise
superintendence over the New England churches.”<a id="FNanchor_469" href="#Footnote_469" class="fnanchor">[469]</a></p>

<p>Gorges tarried at Plymouth about a fortnight,
receiving friendly and cordial entertainment.<a id="FNanchor_470" href="#Footnote_470" class="fnanchor">[470]</a> He
had been advised to select Admiral West, Christopher
Levett, and the existing governor of Plymouth,
as his advisers. This he did; and in this body was
vested the full authority to administer justice in all
cases, “capital, criminal, and civil,” throughout the
province of New England.<a id="FNanchor_471" href="#Footnote_471" class="fnanchor">[471]</a> This arranged, Gorges
sailed for Wessagusset, the site of Weston’s discomfiture,
and, landing his colonists, essayed to plant
on that inauspicious coast a permanent settlement.<a id="FNanchor_472" href="#Footnote_472" class="fnanchor">[472]</a></p>

<p>This colony, like its predecessor, was fated.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span>
Hardly surviving its birth, it lingered through a
twelvemonth, and then dissolved. Sir Ferdinand
Gorges and his company, discouraged by the opposition
of the Parliament to their New England
schemes, would adventure nothing.<a id="FNanchor_473" href="#Footnote_473" class="fnanchor">[473]</a> In the spring
of 1624 he summoned his son home; and a little
later Morrel, who had made no effort to exercise his
superintendency, followed him, and this gave the
second settlement at Wessagusset its <i lang="fr">coup de grâce</i>.<a id="FNanchor_474" href="#Footnote_474" class="fnanchor">[474]</a></p>

<p>Morrel was not spoiled by his disappointment.
“I shall always be desirous for the advancement of
those colonies,” he said.<a id="FNanchor_475" href="#Footnote_475" class="fnanchor">[475]</a> And in a Latin poem
addressed to the New England Council, he wrote:</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“If these poor lines may win that country love,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Or kind compassion in the English move,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Or painful men to a good land invite,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Whose holy works the natives may enlight,—</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">If Heaven grant this, to see there built I trust,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">An English kingdom from the Indian dust.”<a id="FNanchor_476" href="#Footnote_476" class="fnanchor">[476]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p>But while “unmerciful disaster followed thick
and followed faster” this enterprise of Gorges and
several kindred ones,<a id="FNanchor_477" href="#Footnote_477" class="fnanchor">[477]</a> smiting them into early graves,
Plymouth, clasping hands with God, strengthened
daily, and walked forward to assured success. Early
in 1624, the annual election occurred. Governor
Bradford, anxious to retire, pleaded hard for “rotation
in office,” and alleged that that was the “end<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span>
of annual elections.” But the Pilgrims rightly regarded
him as a pivotal-man, and with rare good
sense they reëlected him unanimously.<a id="FNanchor_478" href="#Footnote_478" class="fnanchor">[478]</a> When the
election was over the “Little James” was well victualed
and despatched to the eastward on a fishing
expedition. On reaching Damarin’s cove “there
arose such a violent and extraordinary storm that
the seas broke over such places in the harbor as
were deemed absolutely secure, and drove the vessel
against great rocks, which beat a hole in her hulk
that a horse and cart might have gone through, and
afterwards drove her into deep water, where she
sank. The master was drowned; the rest of the
men, except one, saved their lives with much ado;
and all the provisions, salt, tackle, and what else
was in her, was lost.”<a id="FNanchor_479" href="#Footnote_479" class="fnanchor">[479]</a> Saddened by this mishap,
but undismayed, the Pilgrims now commenced their
preparations for planting. “A great part of liberty,”
says Seneca, “is a well-governed belly, and to
be patient in all wants.”<a id="FNanchor_480" href="#Footnote_480" class="fnanchor">[480]</a> And Corbett, borrowing
the same idea, put it into homely English by affirming
that “the stomach is the cause of civilization.”
He meant that hunger begets labor to satisfy its
cravings. “Wants awaken intellect. To gratify
them disciplines the mind. The keener the want,
the lustier the growth.”<a id="FNanchor_481" href="#Footnote_481" class="fnanchor">[481]</a></p>

<p>The famine of the past had revealed to the Pilgrims
the weakness and inefficiency of the communal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span>
plan. It educated them; for on an individual
basis they reaped plenty. They overcame
hunger by patience. They flanked famine by a
skilful social arrangement. Now, as before, each
man broke ground for himself.<a id="FNanchor_482" href="#Footnote_482" class="fnanchor">[482]</a> There was no
longer an Elysium for sluggards; each reaped as
he had sown.</p>

<p>In March, 1624, Winslow returned to Plymouth,
after an absence of eight months.<a id="FNanchor_483" href="#Footnote_483" class="fnanchor">[483]</a> He brought
with him three heifers and a bull—the first neat
cattle that came into New England.<a id="FNanchor_484" href="#Footnote_484" class="fnanchor">[484]</a> The exiles
could no longer say, “We are without cattle,
and we have no Egypt to go to for corn.”<a id="FNanchor_485" href="#Footnote_485" class="fnanchor">[485]</a> Cattle
they now had, and they created an Egypt.</p>

<p>Winslow also brought some “clothing and other
necessaries; a carpenter, who died soon, but not
until he had rendered himself very useful;” a “salt-man,”
who proved “an ignorant, foolish, self-willed
fellow,” and only made trouble and waste; and “a
preacher, though none of the most eminent and
rare”—to whose transportation Cushman wrote
that he and Winslow had consented only “to give
content to some in London.”<a id="FNanchor_486" href="#Footnote_486" class="fnanchor">[486]</a> Winslow informed
his coadjutors of a sad “report that there was
among the Merchant-adventurers a strong faction
hostile to Plymouth, and especially set against the
coming of the rest from Leyden”<a id="FNanchor_487" href="#Footnote_487" class="fnanchor">[487]</a>—which explains<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span>
the long tarry of Robinson and his flock in Holland.</p>

<p>“It will be remembered,” remarks Palfrey, “that
the London adventurers were engaged in a commercial
speculation. Several of them sympathized more
or less in religious sentiment with the Pilgrims; but
even with most of these considerations of pecuniary
interest were paramount, and they were, besides, a
minority when opposed to the aggregate of those
adventurers who had no mind to interest themselves
in religious dissensions to the damage of their prospect
of gain. Under such circumstances, the policy
of the English partners would naturally be to keep
in favor with the court and with the council for New
England, of which Sir Ferdinand Gorges and other
churchmen were leaders. This it was that occasioned
the thwarting embarrassments which were
persistently interposed to frustrate Robinson’s wish
to collect his scattered flock in America. Neither
the Virginia Company, nor the Merchant-adventurers
as a body, would have preferred to employ Separatists
in founding American colonies, and giving
value to their land. But the option was not theirs.
At the moment, no others were disposed to confront
the anticipated hardships, and none could be
relied upon like these to carry the business through.
This was well understood on both sides to be the
motive for the engagement that was made.</p>

<p>“If Separatists were per force to undertake the
enterprise, it was desirable that they should be persons
not individually conspicuous, or obnoxious to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span>
displeasure in high quarters; and when Brewster,
and not Robinson, accompanied the first settlers to
New England, it was a result, if not due to the intrigues
of the Adventurers, certainly well according
with their policy. Brewster was forgotten in England;
nor had he ever been known as a literary
champion of his sect. The able and learned Robinson
was the recognized head of the <em>Independents</em>,
a rising and militant power. He had an English,
if indeed it may not be called a European reputation.
No name could have been uttered in courtly
circles with worse omen to the new settlement. The
case was still stronger when, having lost their way,
and in consequence come to need another patent, the
colony was made a dependency of the Council for
New England, instead of the Virginia Company.
In the Virginia Company, laboring under the displeasure
of the king, and having Sandys and Wriothesley
for its leaders, there was a leaven of popular
sentiment. The element of absolutism and
prelacy was more controlling in the councils of the
rival corporation.</p>

<p>“From these circumstances the quick instinct
of trade took its lesson. To the favor of the Council
for New England, with Sir Ferdinand Gorges at
its head, and the king taking its part against Sir
Edward Coke and the House of Commons, the
Merchant-adventurers were looking for benefits
which some of them had no mind to hazard by encouraging
their colony to exhale any offensive odor
of schism. This gives us an insight into the policy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span>
of that action to which Robinson referred when, in
a letter to Brewster, now brought by Winslow, he
wrote: ‘I persuade myself that for me, they of all
others are unwilling I should be transported, especially
such of them as have an eye that way themselves,
as thinking if I come there their market will
be marred. And for these Adventurers, if they have
but half the wit to their malice, they will stop my
course when they see it intended.’</p>

<p>“In these circumstances, also, we find an explanation
of the selection of a minister ‘not the most
eminent and rare,’ and such as Cushman and Winslow
could agree to take only ‘to give content to
some in London.’ To send a clergyman avowedly
of the state church was a course not to be thought
of. The colonists could not be expected to receive
him. The best method for their purpose was, to
employ some one of a character and position suited
to get possession of their confidence, and then use
it to tone down their religious strictness, and, if circumstances
should favor, to disturb the ecclesiastical
constitution which they had set up.</p>

<p>“As the financial prospects of the colony faded,
the more anxious were the unsympathizing London
partners to relieve it and themselves from the stigma
of religious schism. The taunt that their colonists
were Brownists depressed the value of their
stock. It was for their interest to introduce settlers
of a different religious character, and to take the
local power, if possible, out of the hands of those
who represented the obnoxious tenets. To this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span>
end it was their policy to encourage such internal
disaffection as already existed, and to strengthen it
by the infusion of new elements of discord. A part
even of the ‘Mayflower’ emigrants, without religious
sympathy with their superiors, and jealous of
the needful exercise of authority, were fit subjects
for an influence adverse to the existing organization.
The miscellaneous importation in the ‘Fortune’
followed; and the whole tenor of the discourse of
Cushman, who came out and returned in her, shows
that there were ‘idle drones’ and ‘unreasonable
men’ mixed with the nobler associates of the infant
settlement. The ‘Anne’ and her partner, the last
vessels despatched by the Adventurers, brought
new fuel for dissension in those of that company
who came ‘on their particular’ account. Nor does
it seem hazardous to infer, alike from the circumstances
of the case and from developments which
speedily followed, that some of these persons, in
concert with the ‘strong faction among the Adventurers,’
came over on the errand of subverting the
existing government and order.”<a id="FNanchor_488" href="#Footnote_488" class="fnanchor">[488]</a></p>

<p>The clergyman now sent over, and mentioned
in the home-letters, was John Lyford. He was the
seed of many and sad disturbances. “When he
first came ashore,” says Bradford, “he saluted the
colonists with such reverence and humility as is
seldom seen, and indeed made them ashamed, he
so bowed and cringed unto them; he would have
kissed their hands, if they had suffered it. Yet all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span>
the while, if we may judge by his after-carriage, he
was but like him mentioned by the psalmist,<a id="FNanchor_489" href="#Footnote_489" class="fnanchor">[489]</a> that
croucheth and boweth that heaps of poor may fall
by his might. Or like that dissembling Ishmael<a id="FNanchor_490" href="#Footnote_490" class="fnanchor">[490]</a>
who, when he had slain Gedeliah, went out weeping,
and met them that were coming to offer incense
in the house of the Lord, saying, ‘Come to
Gedeliah,’ when he meant to slay them.”<a id="FNanchor_491" href="#Footnote_491" class="fnanchor">[491]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims received Lyford cordially, giving
him the warmest of welcomes and the heartiest.
A larger allowance out of the general store was
allotted him than any other had; and as the governor
was wont, “in all weighty affairs, to consult
with Elder Brewster as well as with his special
assistants, so now, from courtesy, he called Lyford
also to advise in all important crises.”<a id="FNanchor_492" href="#Footnote_492" class="fnanchor">[492]</a></p>

<p>Ere long he professed to desire to unite with
the Pilgrim church. He was accordingly received,
and “made a large confession of his faith, and an
acknowledgment of his former disorderly walking
and entanglement with many corruptions, which
had been a burden to his conscience; so that he
blessed God for this opportunity of liberty to
enjoy the ordinances of God in purity among His
people.”<a id="FNanchor_493" href="#Footnote_493" class="fnanchor">[493]</a></p>

<p>For a time all things went comfortably and
smoothly; but in this calm, Lyford contracted an
intimacy with one John Oldham, who had come out
in the “Anne” on his own account, and had been a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span>
factious bawler from the outset.<a id="FNanchor_494" href="#Footnote_494" class="fnanchor">[494]</a> From so congenial
an association, evil could not but be begotten.
The bully and the hypocrite soon nursed it
and set it afoot. Both Oldham and Lyford grew
very perverse—though just before Oldham also
had been received as a member of the Plymouth
church, “whether from hypocrisy or out of some
sudden pang of conviction God only knows”—and
“showed a spirit of great malignancy, drawing as
many into faction as they could influence. The
most idle and profane they nourished, and backed
in all their lawlessness, so they would but cleave
to them and revile the Pilgrim church. Private
meetings and back-stair whisperings were incessant
among them, they feeding themselves and others
with what they should bring to pass in England by
the faction of their friends among the Adventurers,
which brought both themselves and their dupes
into a fools’ paradise. Outwardly they set a fair
face on things, yet they could not carry things so
closely but much both of their sayings and doings
was discovered.”<a id="FNanchor_495" href="#Footnote_495" class="fnanchor">[495]</a></p>

<p>Finally, when the vessel in which Winslow had
returned was laden, and ready to hoist anchor
and spread sail for home, it was observed that Lyford
and his coadjutors “were long in writing and
sent many letters, and communicated to each other
such things as made them laugh in their sleeves,
thinking they had done their errand efficiently.”<a id="FNanchor_496" href="#Footnote_496" class="fnanchor">[496]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span></p>

<p>Scenting mischief, Bradford watched them closely;
and when the ship left the harbor, he followed
her in the shallop, and demanded Lyford’s letter-bag.
The captain, who was friendly to the colonial
government, and cognizant of the plot afoot, both
in Britain and at Plymouth, to overreach the Pilgrims,
at once acceded. Above twenty letters, many
of them long, and pregnant with slanders, false accusations,
and <ins class="corr" id="tn-217" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'malicious inuendoes'">
malicious innuendoes</ins>, tending not only
to the prejudice, but the ruin and utter subversion
of the settlement, were found. Most of these Bradford
let pass, contenting himself with abstracts.
But of the most material true copies were taken,
and then forwarded, the originals being detained,
lest their writer should deny his work, in which case
he would now be compelled to eat his own penmanship.<a id="FNanchor_497" href="#Footnote_497" class="fnanchor">[497]</a></p>

<p>The ship had sailed towards evening; in the
night the governor returned. Lyford and his faction
“looked blank when they saw Bradford land;
but after some weeks, as nothing came of it, they
were as brisk as ever, thinking that all was unknown
and was gone current, and that the shallop
went but to despatch some well-nigh forgotten or
belated letters. The reason why Bradford and the
rest concealed their knowledge was, to let affairs
drift to a natural development, and ripen, that they
might the better discover the intentions of the malcontents,
and see who were their adherents. And
they did this the rather, because they had learned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span>
from a letter written by one of the confederates,
that Oldham and Lyford intended an immediate
reformation of the church and commonwealth, and
proposed at once, on the departure of the ship, to
unite their forces, and set up a worship on the English
model.”<a id="FNanchor_498" href="#Footnote_498" class="fnanchor">[498]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims had not long to wait. Oldham,
with the natural instinct of a bully, picked constant
quarrels, refused to mount guard, and pelted Standish
with vile epithets. Lyford, a more cautious
knave, had no heart for fisticuffs, but he set up another
worship on the Sabbath, and openly celebrated
sacraments<a id="FNanchor_499" href="#Footnote_499" class="fnanchor">[499]</a> which were to the Pilgrims instinct
with vicious tyranny and idolatrous significance;
and to escape from which, they had crossed the
channel into Holland, and plunged across the Atlantic
into the winter wilderness.</p>

<p>The colonists at once acted. Oldham was tamed.
“After being clapped up awhile, he came to himself.”
Lyford was formally impeached. A court
was convened, and the settlers at large were summoned
to attend. Bradford himself conducted the
prosecution in this primitive trial. He said that,
“being greatly oppressed in Britain, the Pilgrims
had come to America, here to enjoy liberty of conscience;
and for that they had passed through
frightful hardships, and planted this settlement on
the sterile rocks. The danger and the charge of
the beginning were theirs. Lyford had been sent
over at the general expense, and both himself and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span>
his large family<a id="FNanchor_500" href="#Footnote_500" class="fnanchor">[500]</a> had been maintained from the
common store. He had joined their church, and
become one of themselves; and for him to plot the
ruin of his entertainers was most unjust and perfidious.
As for Oldham and his crew, who came at
their own charge and for their particular benefit,
seeing they were received in courtesy by the plantation,
when they came only to seek shelter and
protection under its wings, not being able to stand
alone, they were like the fable of the hedgehog
whom the cony, in a stormy day, from pity welcomed
into her burrow; but who, not content to
take part with her, in the end, with her sharp
pricks forced the poor cony to forsake her own
burrow, as these do now attempt to do with us.”<a id="FNanchor_501" href="#Footnote_501" class="fnanchor">[501]</a></p>

<p>Here Lyford denied that he had been guilty of
any wrong. Bradford at once “put in” his intercepted
letters as evidence. The unmasked hypocrite
was dumb. But Oldham, mad with rage, attempted
to rouse an <i lang="fr">émeute</i> on the spot.<a id="FNanchor_502" href="#Footnote_502" class="fnanchor">[502]</a> No hand
was uplifted at his appeal, and Bradford caused
the whole parcel of letters to be read; after which,
resuming his speech, he reminded Lyford of his
humble confession on being received into the church,
of his solemn promise not to attempt to perform
the functions of a clergyman until he had another
call to that sacred office; in open violation of which,
he had assumed the clerical garb, in virtue of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span>
ordination, drawn aside a small clique, and by
attempting to officiate at the Lord’s table on the
Sabbath, broken his solemn pledge and disturbed
the public peace.<a id="FNanchor_503" href="#Footnote_503" class="fnanchor">[503]</a></p>

<p>The proof was so patent, the falsehoods which
impregnated the insolent letters were so bold, that
the factionists were absolutely dumb. No voice
was raised in extenuation of the roguery. Conviction
was speedy. Oldham and Lyford were both
sentenced to banishment.<a id="FNanchor_504" href="#Footnote_504" class="fnanchor">[504]</a></p>

<p>Oldham at once left Plymouth, and repaired to
Nantasket, where the Pilgrims had a station to accommodate
the Indian trade.<a id="FNanchor_505" href="#Footnote_505" class="fnanchor">[505]</a> But Lyford, as weak
as he was vicious, burst into tears, and “confessed
that he feared he was a reprobate, with sins too
heavy for God to pardon;” and he promised amendment
with such emphasis, and pleaded so piteously
for forgiveness, that the kind and merciful settlers
consented to keep him on probation for six months.<a id="FNanchor_506" href="#Footnote_506" class="fnanchor">[506]</a></p>

<p>But he was an ingrained knave, and amendment
was not in him. Not long after this scene, he wrote
a second letter to the Merchant-adventurers, in
which he justified all his former charges, and elaborated
them. Unhappily for him, the messenger to
whom he intrusted this precious missive surrendered
it into the hands of Bradford, who simply
filed it for the present, and let his just wrath accumulate.<a id="FNanchor_507" href="#Footnote_507" class="fnanchor">[507]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span></p>

<p>In the mean time the ship, with Lyford’s batch
of letters aboard, dropped anchor in the Thames.
The lies of their masquerading agent were eagerly
conned by the London partners. A conclave was
held. The inimical adventurers pointed triumphantly
to Lyford’s testimony. But, fortunately for
the Pilgrims, Winslow, who had returned to London,
had become acquainted with certain disreputable
and damning facts in Lyford’s home-career,
both in England and in Ireland, where he
had officiated as pastor, which proved him to be a
lecher and a swindler, who soiled the surplice and
the cope. With these facts, and followed by grave
and unimpeachable witnesses, Winslow hurried into
the room where the merchants were assembled, and
made his <i lang="fr">exposé</i>, which “struck Lyford’s friends with
sudden dumbness, and made them shame greatly.”<a id="FNanchor_508" href="#Footnote_508" class="fnanchor">[508]</a></p>

<p>But these reports, together with their disappointment
in not harvesting an immediate fortune,
impelled two thirds of the original members of the
London Company to withdraw from the venture;
“and as there had been a faction and siding amongst
them for two years, so now there was an utter breach
and sequestration.”<a id="FNanchor_509" href="#Footnote_509" class="fnanchor">[509]</a></p>

<p>Some of the partners, however, remained friendly;
and these, assuming the debt of the colony—amounting
to some fourteen hundred pounds sterling—fitted
out a ship for another voyage, wrote in
terms of comfort and cheer, and sent out cattle,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span>
tools and clothing, which they sold to the planters,
despite their friendly professions, at an exorbitant
advance on the market value.<a id="FNanchor_510" href="#Footnote_510" class="fnanchor">[510]</a></p>

<p>In the spring of 1625, Winslow came back with
this ship thus freighted; and he brought with him
besides, the news of the disaffection among the
Merchant-adventurers. On landing, he was the
surprised witness of a strange ceremony. In the
village street was drawn up a guard of musketeers
in two files, between which a man was running. As
he passed, each soldier gave him a thump behind
with the but of his musket.<a id="FNanchor_511" href="#Footnote_511" class="fnanchor">[511]</a> This was called “running
the gauntlet,” and was a custom borrowed
from the Indians. So engrossed were the settlers
in this odd sport, and so convulsed were the soberest
of them with laughter at the victim’s odd grimaces
on being struck and bidden “mend his manners,”
that Winslow advanced quite up to the crowd
ere he was discovered and recognized. He then
learned that the sufferer of this singular punishment
was Oldham, who, despite his banishment,
had ventured to return to Plymouth and revile his
judges.<a id="FNanchor_512" href="#Footnote_512" class="fnanchor">[512]</a></p>

<p>Winslow at once informed the clustering colonists
of the effect of Lyford’s letters in England,
and repeated his <i lang="fr">exposé</i> of that bad man’s abhorrent
private character.<a id="FNanchor_513" href="#Footnote_513" class="fnanchor">[513]</a> The Pilgrims were not surprised.
Lyford’s own wife, “a grave matron of
good carriage,” had herself, in the sorrow of her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span>
heart, disclosed some secrets and uncloaked some
crimes which led them to believe Lyford capable
of perpetrating any villany.<a id="FNanchor_514" href="#Footnote_514" class="fnanchor">[514]</a></p>

<p>Now, since his probationary time had expired,
and he was a more dangerous rascal than before,
he was ordered to quit the colony. This he did,
joining Oldham at Nantucket; whence, a little later,
he wandered into Virginia, dying there very miserably.<a id="FNanchor_515" href="#Footnote_515" class="fnanchor">[515]</a></p>

<p>Eventually Oldham repented of his evil conduct,
and became reconciled to the Pilgrims; “so that
he had liberty to come and go, and converse with
them at pleasure,” until, some years later, the Indians,
in a petty quarrel, knocked his brains out
with a tomahawk.<a id="FNanchor_516" href="#Footnote_516" class="fnanchor">[516]</a></p>

<p>Thus ended the “Lyford troubles.” Led by
God, the Plymouth colonists safely surmounted one
more obstacle, the insidious assault of masqueraders
who “stole the livery of heaven to serve the
devil in.”</p>

<p>The winter of 1624-5 had passed without any
special occurrence save this Lyford affair; and
here see one strange thing: “Many who before
stood something off from the church,” says Bradford,
“now, seeing Lyford’s unrighteous dealing
and malignity against it, came forward and tendered
themselves as members, professing that it
was not out of any dislike of any thing that they
had stood so long aloof, but from a desire to fit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span>
themselves better for such a connection, and that
now they saw that the Lord called for their help.
So that Lyford’s crusade had quite a contrary effect
from that hoped; which was looked at as a great
work of God, who drew men on by unlikely means,
and by occurrences which might rather have set
them farther off.”<a id="FNanchor_517" href="#Footnote_517" class="fnanchor">[517]</a></p>

<p>Lyford had complained to the Merchant-adventurers
that the Pilgrims had no regularly ordained
minister. To this charge Bradford made a fine
retort: “We answer, the more is our wrong, that
our pastor is kept from us by these men’s means,
who then reproach <em>us</em> for it. Yet have we not been
wholly destitute of the means of salvation, as this
man would have the world believe; for our reverend
elder, Mr. Brewster, hath labored diligently in
dispensing the word of God unto us; and, be it
spoken without ostentation, he is not inferior to
Mr. Lyford—and some of his betters—either in gifts
or learning, though he would never be persuaded
to take higher office upon himself.”<a id="FNanchor_518" href="#Footnote_518" class="fnanchor">[518]</a></p>

<p>Brewster taught twice every Sabbath powerfully
and profitably, and without stipend, which he steadily
declined, working for his bread with his own
hands, and earning it in the sweat of his brows,
thus approximating to the early Christian practice.
“He did more in one year,” asserts old John Cotton,
“than many who have their hundreds per annum
do in all their lives.” So it seems that there
is one brilliant exception to the Indian maxim,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span>
“Poor pay poor preach.” The good elder had a
singular gift in prayer, “yet was seldom wordy or
prolix.” Without the afflatus of ordination, he was
so much better than most ministers with it, that,
though destitute of “consecrated ministrations,”
the colonists did not suffer much, and mainly regretted
the absence of sacraments, which Brewster,
unordained, was not competent to celebrate.<a id="FNanchor_519" href="#Footnote_519" class="fnanchor">[519]</a></p>

<p>Prince gives a summary of the religious tenets of
the Plymouth church:</p>

<p>I. “It held that nothing is to be accounted true
religion but what is taught in the Holy Scriptures.”</p>

<p>II. “It held that every man has the right of
private judgment, of testing his belief by the sacred
writ, and of worshipping God in his own way as
that text directed.”<a id="FNanchor_520" href="#Footnote_520" class="fnanchor">[520]</a></p>

<p>On this doctrine the Pilgrims thrived. “Brown
bread and the gospel is good fare,” they said to one
another.<a id="FNanchor_521" href="#Footnote_521" class="fnanchor">[521]</a> Indeed it was; and there on the desolate
coast, where wheat froze and the bitter winter
congealed six months of the twelve, men grew.
“At last,” says Elliott, “in the beginning of the
seventeenth century, we see a church with no priest,
with no hierarchy, with no forms; none like it since
that at Corinth; none so entirely free to work out its
ideas into life and action. It was a religious democracy.
Its doctrines and practices were the outcome<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span>
of the time, and were decided on by the votes of the
members as men. In theory, the majority ruled in
the Plymouth church. ’Tis a noticeable thing in
human history, and it has had its influence in both
church and state. The day had come when a few
brave men could take this step in advance towards
freedom, and not be swallowed up and lost. The
day had come when democracy was possible in the
church, foretelling its speedy coming in the state.”<a id="FNanchor_522" href="#Footnote_522" class="fnanchor">[522]</a></p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.<br>
<span class="fs80">SAD NEWS FROM ENGLAND.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Thou know’st ’tis common; all that live must die.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Passing through nature to eternity.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent24"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare’s</span> <cite>Hamlet</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>The Pilgrims were fretted by the unsatisfactory
and clogging conditions of their compact with the
London partners. Their prosperity was perpetually
menaced by the factions and the chicanery of
a herd of merchants whose only god was mammon,
and who cared nothing for justice and sober living
and their plighted word, if only they might make
their heaps high and massy.</p>

<p>Early in 1625, the colonists determined to initiate
measures which should look to their disenthralment,
and whose result should be to give them
in fee simple those lands which their patient skill
had wrung from the sturdy hand of unwilling and
churlish nature. Standish was commissioned to go
to England, and open negotiations with the Merchant-adventurers.<a id="FNanchor_523" href="#Footnote_523" class="fnanchor">[523]</a></p>

<p>Two ships, which had come out on a trading
voyage, were now about to sail for home. In the
larger of these the redoubtable captain embarked.
“Being both well laden, they went joyfully home<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span>
together, the greater towing the lesser at her stern
all the way over. And they had such fair weather,
that they never once cast off till both were shot
deep into the English channel. Yet there the little
vessel was unhappily seized by a Turkish rover, and
carried into Sallee, where master and crew were
made slaves; and her cargo of beaver-skins was
sold at sixpence a piece. Thus were their hopes
dashed, and the joyful news they meant to carry
home was turned to heavy tidings.”<a id="FNanchor_524" href="#Footnote_524" class="fnanchor">[524]</a></p>

<p>Fortunately for Standish, the Turk was satisfied
with the morsel he had already gotten into his
capacious maw, and did not pursue the bigger ship;
so that he escaped a life of Eastern servitude, and
safely reached the English soil. Wasting no time,
he hastened to meet the London partners; and so
skilful was his diplomacy, that he made arrangements
for the gradual absorption of the Plymouth
debt by the settlers, “taking up a hundred and fifty
pounds of it on the spot, though at fifty per cent.
interest, which he bestowed in trading and in the
purchase of such commodities as he knew to be
requisite for colonial use.”<a id="FNanchor_525" href="#Footnote_525" class="fnanchor">[525]</a></p>

<p>In the spring of 1626, he returned to Plymouth,<a id="FNanchor_526" href="#Footnote_526" class="fnanchor">[526]</a>
bringing with him the mournful intelligence of the
death of Cushman in England and of Robinson in
Leyden,<a id="FNanchor_527" href="#Footnote_527" class="fnanchor">[527]</a> a double bereavement to the Pilgrim pioneers.</p>

<p>The loss of no other two men could have dealt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span>
so stunning a blow to the infant settlement. Plymouth
was almost buffeted from its feet. The loss
seemed irreparable to human eyes; but God, who
uses his servants, delights to show the world that
they are not indispensable to him. Cushman had
been “as their right hand to the Pilgrims, and for
divers years had done and agitated all their business
with the Adventurers, to the great advantage
of his friends.”<a id="FNanchor_528" href="#Footnote_528" class="fnanchor">[528]</a></p>

<p>But Robinson was mourned with a peculiar sorrow.
Attached to their great teacher by the tenderest
personal ties, by many favors rendered and
received, by marriage vows plighted at his altar,
by mutual perils undergone for a common faith,
by expectation of his arrival and reunion on the
bleak New England strand, is it strange that Plymouth
at large wept sore for him, and plucked its
beard?</p>

<p>“Robinson’s powerful ascendency over the minds
of his associates, acquired by eminent talents and
virtues, had been used disinterestedly and wisely
for the common good. With great courage and
fortitude, he had equal gentleness and liberality;
and his intellectual accomplishments and the generosity
of his affections inspired mingled love and
admiration. Though he passed his life in the midst
of controversy, it was so far from narrowing his
mind, that his charity towards dissenters distinguished
him among the divines of his day as much
as his abilities and learning, while his broad and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span>
tolerant views continued to ripen and expand as
he grew towards age,”<a id="FNanchor_529" href="#Footnote_529" class="fnanchor">[529]</a> and bloomed into the
grave.</p>

<p>In especial he won the benediction of the seventh
beatitude; for he was famous as a peacemaker,
and there are many instances of reconciliation
between those at variance effected by his fine
Christian tact.<a id="FNanchor_530" href="#Footnote_530" class="fnanchor">[530]</a></p>

<p>“He fell sick Saturday morning, February 22,
1625. Next day he taught twice; but in the week,
grew feebler every day, and quit this life on the 1st
of March. All his friends came freely to him; and
if prayers, tears, or means, could have saved his life,
he had not gone hence.”<a id="FNanchor_531" href="#Footnote_531" class="fnanchor">[531]</a></p>

<p>He died in his fifty-first year, “even as fruit falleth
before it is ripe, when neither length of days
nor infirmity of body did seem to call for his end.”<a id="FNanchor_532" href="#Footnote_532" class="fnanchor">[532]</a>
The discarded flesh-tabernacle was laid to rest in
the chancel of one of the churches at Leyden,<a id="FNanchor_533" href="#Footnote_533" class="fnanchor">[533]</a>
allotted by the Dutch for the use of the English
exiles; and the magistrates, ministers, professors,
and students, followed him to the grave.<a id="FNanchor_534" href="#Footnote_534" class="fnanchor">[534]</a></p>

<p>Robinson was the Moses of the Pilgrims, and
like his prototype, he looked into the promised land
from the top of Pisgah, but he did not enter it. Intrigue
balked him of that felicity, and “hope deferred<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span>
made his heart sick.” But ideas cannot be
barred out. His entered the wilderness, and germinated
democracy and the representative system.
“His truth, planted at Plymouth, has blossomed
on the rocky shores, in the sheltered valleys, and
on the breezy hills of New England, and borne a
grand harvest.”</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.<br>
<span class="fs80">PROGRESS.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">&#160; &#160; “And when our children turn the page</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">To ask what triumphs marked our age—</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">What we achieved to challenge praise,</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">Through the long line of future days—</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">This let them read, and hence instruction draw:</div>
    <div class="verse indent4">‘Here were the many blest,</div>
    <div class="verse indent4">Here found the virtues rest,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Faith linked with Love, and Liberty with Law.’”</div>
    <div class="verse indent21"><span class="smcap">Sprague’s</span> <cite>Centennial Ode</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>The progress of population at Plymouth was
slow for a decade. The lands in the vicinity were
not fertile. Still the plantation had struck deep
root and was bound to spring up and bear a hundred
fold.<a id="FNanchor_535" href="#Footnote_535" class="fnanchor">[535]</a> If the colonial prosperity was not imposing,
it was thriving. A little earlier than this
Smith learned in Virginia that there were on this
New England slope “about a hundred and eighty
persons; some cattle and goats; many swine and a
good store of poultry; and thirty-two dwelling-houses;
forming a town which was impaled about
half a mile’s compass, with a fort built of wood,
loam, and stone; also a fair watch-tower; and able
to freight a ship of a hundred and eighty tons burden.”<a id="FNanchor_536" href="#Footnote_536" class="fnanchor">[536]</a></p>

<p>Fifty ships were on the coast engaged in fishing,
every one of which was an enlargement of their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span>
market for the sale and purchase of essential commodities.<a id="FNanchor_537" href="#Footnote_537" class="fnanchor">[537]</a></p>

<p>“It pleased the Lord,” says Bradford, “to give
the plantation peace, and health, and contented
minds, and so bless the labors of the colonists that
they had provisions in plenty, and to spare; and this
without receiving any food from home at any time,
except what they brought out in the Mayflower.”<a id="FNanchor_538" href="#Footnote_538" class="fnanchor">[538]</a></p>

<p>Owing to the competition in the fishing waters,
the Pilgrims esteemed it wiser now to forego that
pursuit and to turn their whole attention to “trading
and planting.” “To every person,” says Bradford,
“was given an acre of land, and only an acre to them
and theirs, as near the town as might be, and they had
no more till the contract with the London partners
was bought up. The reason was, that all might be
kept close together both for better safety and defence,
and the better improvement of the common employments.
This condition of theirs did make me think
of what I once read in Pliny<a id="FNanchor_539" href="#Footnote_539" class="fnanchor">[539]</a> of the Romans and
their beginnings in Romulus’ time, when every man
contented himself with two acres of land and had
no more assigned him; how it was thought a great
reward to receive a pint of corn at the hands of the
Roman people; how, long after, the greatest present
given to a captain who had gotten them a victory
over their enemies, was as much ground as he
could till in one day; he being counted not a good
but a dangerous man, who could not content himself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span>
with seven acres of land; as also how they did
pound their corn in mortars, as these colonists did
many years before they could get a mill.”<a id="FNanchor_540" href="#Footnote_540" class="fnanchor">[540]</a></p>

<p>In turning from fishing to agriculture the settlers
were decided gainers, and “ere the close of the
year 1626 they had nearly extricated themselves
from debt, including the obligation lately incurred
for them by Standish, and had besides stored ‘some
clothing for the people and some commodities beforehand.’”<a id="FNanchor_541" href="#Footnote_541" class="fnanchor">[541]</a></p>

<p>The winter of 1626-7 was given to trading, and
purchases were made of merchandise from some
Englishmen stationed at Monhegan, and from a
French ship wrecked off their coast. For several
months they had the society of the passengers and
crew of a vessel bound to Virginia, but which, losing
her reckoning, and falling short of provisions, had
moored under Cape Cod and sent to them for succor.<a id="FNanchor_542" href="#Footnote_542" class="fnanchor">[542]</a></p>

<p>Just before winter closed in the Pilgrims had
despatched one of their number, Mr. Allerton, to
England with authority to continue the negotiations
for a transfer of title opened by Standish with the
Merchant-adventurers.<a id="FNanchor_543" href="#Footnote_543" class="fnanchor">[543]</a> Allerton found the plague—which
had somewhat retarded the movements of
Standish, and carried off some of the most efficient
supporters of the colony<a id="FNanchor_544" href="#Footnote_544" class="fnanchor">[544]</a>—quite abated. He also
learned that James I., the pedantic bigot who had
threatened to “harry” the Puritans out of England,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span>
was dead, and that he had been succeeded by his
son Charles I., the fated prince who afterwards fell
under Cromwell’s axe on the Whitehall scaffold.</p>

<p>The Plymouth agent was successful, though “the
curse of usury, which always falls so heavily upon
new settlements, did not spare” the Pilgrims, since
they were compelled to borrow money at an exorbitant
interest. Allerton had carried out nine bonds,
each for two hundred pounds—eighteen hundred
pounds being the price at which the partnership
held their mortgage. These bonds were given by
eight of the most prominent Pilgrims,<a id="FNanchor_545" href="#Footnote_545" class="fnanchor">[545]</a> and were
made payable in nine equal annual instalments,
commencing in 1627.<a id="FNanchor_546" href="#Footnote_546" class="fnanchor">[546]</a> Thus it was that a bevy of
patriotic colonists purchased the rights and assumed
the responsibilities of the “Company of Merchant-adventurers.”
They were known in the phrase of
that day as “The Undertakers,” and they emancipated
Plymouth from its harassing thraldom to a
greedy horde of money-changers.</p>

<p>The Pilgrims were much gratified by this success,
though they knew that their undertaking was not
without grave hazard. “They knew not well,” remarks
Bradford, “how to raise this yearly payment,
besides discharging their other engagements and
supplying their annual wants, especially since they
were forced by necessity to take up money at such
high interest. Yet they undertook it.”<a id="FNanchor_547" href="#Footnote_547" class="fnanchor">[547]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span></p>

<p>Of course, this purchase of the right of the home
company necessitated a new organization, and a
redistribution of property at Plymouth. After mature
deliberation, it was decided to erect a commonwealth,
in which each settler should own a share,
but under an agreement that trade should be managed
as before until the total discharge of the debt
incurred for liberty.<a id="FNanchor_548" href="#Footnote_548" class="fnanchor">[548]</a></p>

<p>The division was at once made of the stock and
land heretofore the joint estate of the adventurers
and their partners in the soil. Every man had a
share; and “every father of a family was allowed to
purchase one share for his wife and one for each child
living with him.”<a id="FNanchor_549" href="#Footnote_549" class="fnanchor">[549]</a> One cow and two goats were
assigned by lot to every six shareholders, “and
swine, though more in number, yet by the same
rule.” In addition to the land which each already
held, “every person had twenty acres allotted him;
but no meadows were to be laid out; nor were they
for many years after, because they were straitened
for meadow land. Every season each was given a
certain spot to mow in proportion to the cattle
owned.”<a id="FNanchor_550" href="#Footnote_550" class="fnanchor">[550]</a> The houses became the private property
of their respective tenants by an equitable assignment,<a id="FNanchor_551" href="#Footnote_551" class="fnanchor">[551]</a>
and henceforward there were to be New
England freeholders. The vassalage to foreign merchants
was ended.<a id="FNanchor_552" href="#Footnote_552" class="fnanchor">[552]</a></p>

<p>It should not be forgotten that in the allotment
of land, there was a grant to the Indian Habbamak.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span>
He held by the Pilgrims and by their God, spite of
enticements and obstacles, and died “leaving some
good hopes in the settlers’ hearts that his soul had
gone to rest.”<a id="FNanchor_553" href="#Footnote_553" class="fnanchor">[553]</a></p>

<p>“The first coveted luxury of the emancipated
plantation was a reunion with their long-detained
comrades in Holland. Hitherto the pleasure of
others might decide who should join them. That
embarrassment was now happily withdrawn. Their
tender mutual recollections had naturally been refreshed
by the common moaning for their ‘loving
and faithful pastor;’” so now “the Plymouth governor
and some of his chiefest friends had serious
consideration, not only how they might discharge
the engagements which lay so heavily upon them,
but also how they might—if possibly they could—devise
means to help their friends at Leyden over
to them, these desiring to come as heartily as they
to have them. To effect this they resolved to run
a high course and of great venture, not knowing
otherwise how to compass it; which was, to hire the
trade of the colony for six years, and in that time
to undertake the liquidation of the whole impending
debt, so that when the specified time was ended
the plantation should be set free, with freedom of
trade to the generality.”<a id="FNanchor_554" href="#Footnote_554" class="fnanchor">[554]</a></p>

<p>Allerton was again sent to England with full
power “under the hand and seal” of <em>the Undertakers</em>,
to close the old bargain and to negotiate “with some
of the special friends of the colony to join with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span>
them<a id="FNanchor_555" href="#Footnote_555" class="fnanchor">[555]</a> in this trade.”<a id="FNanchor_556" href="#Footnote_556" class="fnanchor">[556]</a> The mission was promptly
completed. In the spring of 1628, Allerton returned,
“bringing a reasonable supply of goods.” He reported
that he had paid the first instalment to the
Adventurers, delivered the bonds for the residue of
the debt, and obtained the due conveyance and release;
also that he had engaged a quartette of
friends<a id="FNanchor_557" href="#Footnote_557" class="fnanchor">[557]</a> to accept an interest in the six years’ hire
of the colonial trade, in return for which they had
agreed to charge themselves with the transportation
of the Leyden congregation. Lastly, he had
obtained from the New England Council a patent
for land on the Kennebec, which was at once
turned to account by the erection of a block-house
“in that river, in the most convenient place for
Indian trade” and a traffic with the Maine fishermen.<a id="FNanchor_558" href="#Footnote_558" class="fnanchor">[558]</a></p>

<p>At this same time Allerton brought out with him
a young minister named Rogers, the first, save Lyford,
if we may dignify him by that name, possessed
by the Plymouth Pilgrims.<a id="FNanchor_559" href="#Footnote_559" class="fnanchor">[559]</a> But he proved only a
vexation and an expense; for, being “crazed in the
brain,” he was sent back to Britain ere a twelvemonth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span>
had elapsed, and the plantation had recourse
once more to stout old Brewster.<a id="FNanchor_560" href="#Footnote_560" class="fnanchor">[560]</a></p>

<p>By this time the charge of <em>Brownism</em> and bigoted
exclusiveness, so often levelled at the Pilgrims,
was well-nigh laid in England. Hard-fisted facts had
smitten that slander so often in the face that it lost
its hardihood. Indeed, remembering the character
of that age, the Plymouth church was singularly
catholic. Winslow cites many instances of the admission
to its communion of communicants of the
French, the Dutch, and the Scotch churches, merely
by virtue of their being so.<a id="FNanchor_561" href="#Footnote_561" class="fnanchor">[561]</a> He says: “We ever
placed a wide difference betwixt those who grounded
their practice on the word of God, though differing
from us in their exposition and understanding of it,
and those who hate reformers and reformation, running
into anti-Christian opposition and persecution
of the truth.” He adds: “’Tis true, we profess and
desire to practise <em>separation</em> from the world; and as
the churches of Christ are all saints by calling, so
we desire to see the grace of God shining forth—at
least <em>seemingly</em>, leaving secret things to God—in
all whom we admit to church-fellowship, and to
keep off such as openly wallow in the mire of their
sins, that neither the holy things of God, nor the
communion of saints, may be leavened or polluted
thereby. And if any joining us, either formerly at
Leyden, or since our New England residence, have
with the manifestation of faith and the profession<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span>
of holiness, held forth therewith separation from the
church of England, I have divers times, both in the
one place and in the other, heard either Mr. Robinson,
our pastor, or Mr. Brewster, our elder, stop
them forthwith, showing them that we required no
such thing at their hands; but only to hold forth
Christ Jesus, holiness in the fear of God, and a submission
to the Scripture ordinances and appointments.”<a id="FNanchor_562" href="#Footnote_562" class="fnanchor">[562]</a></p>

<p>Such were the simple tenets of the Plymouth
church under the instructions of Brewster—change
of heart and a life regulated by the sacred writ the
only tests.</p>

<p>And now the Pilgrim enterprise began to take a
wide range; they had already acquired rights on
Cape Ann, as well as an extensive domain on the
Kennebec, now covered by patent; and they were
the first to plant an English settlement on the
banks of the silvery Connecticut.<a id="FNanchor_563" href="#Footnote_563" class="fnanchor">[563]</a> All around them
the lusty shouts of the pioneers were heard. They
no longer stood alone on the verge of the unbroken
and primeval forest. Civilization, pushing restlessly
towards the setting sun, began to supplement this
nucleus colony. English planters were already
seated at Saco and at Sagadahoc, in Maine.<a id="FNanchor_564" href="#Footnote_564" class="fnanchor">[564]</a> The
red men who haunted the coast-line of Massachusetts
Bay, were pushed from their marshy hunting-grounds
by the Puritan colonists who followed Endicott<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span>
into the wilderness. And in the west, the
patient, phlegmatic Dutch, “without haste, without
rest,” had founded New Amsterdam on the island
of Manhattan, a town which bathed its feet in the
waters of old Hendrick Hudson’s majestic river, and
which has since expanded to be the metropolis of
North America.<a id="FNanchor_565" href="#Footnote_565" class="fnanchor">[565]</a></p>

<p>No occasion, now, to complain of a lack of company.
With all the settlements amicable and cordial
relations were cemented by the Pilgrim Fathers
of Plymouth. With the Dutch planters, especially,
a correspondence was had, by means of which mutually
kind wishes and commercial offices were interchanged.<a id="FNanchor_566" href="#Footnote_566" class="fnanchor">[566]</a>
In 1627, Isaac de Rasières, “a chief
merchant at New Amsterdam, and second to the
Dutch governor of the New Netherlands,” visited
Plymouth, where he tarried “some days,” and received
friendly entertainment.<a id="FNanchor_567" href="#Footnote_567" class="fnanchor">[567]</a> A neighborly business
intercourse was commenced, and it was at this
time that the Pilgrims became acquainted with the
value and the uses of <em>wampum</em>.<a id="FNanchor_568" href="#Footnote_568" class="fnanchor">[568]</a> This was the Indian
coin—the dollars and cents of barbarism. It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span>
was made of small pieces of shell, white sometimes,
but often purple, and ground, polished, drilled, and
strung or beaded.<a id="FNanchor_569" href="#Footnote_569" class="fnanchor">[569]</a></p>

<p>“Neither the English of this plantation nor of
any other in these parts,” remarks Bradford, “had
knowledge of wampum till now. But the settlers
bought fifty pounds’ worth of it from De Rasières,
who told them how vendable it was at their Indian
stations, and did persuade them that they would
find it so at Kennebec; and so it came to pass, for
though at first it stuck, and they were two years in
working off a small quantity, yet afterwards, when
the inland tribes knew of it, the traders could scarce
ever get enough to supply the demand, for many
years together.”<a id="FNanchor_570" href="#Footnote_570" class="fnanchor">[570]</a></p>

<p>De Rasières was a close and shrewd observer,
and nothing escaped his keen eyes at Plymouth.
On his return he wrote a letter in which he described
at length the salient characteristics of the
Pilgrim colony. Let us take a peep into the quaint
old manuscript, and see how New England in its
Pilgrim babyhood looked in his eyes:</p>

<p>“New Plymouth lies on the slope of a hill
stretching east towards the sea-shore. It has a
broad street about a cannot-shot of eight hundred
feet long, looking down the slope, with a street
crossing this in the middle, and running northward<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span>
to a rivulet, very rapid but shallow, which there
empties into the sea, and southward to the land.
The houses are built of hewn planks, with gardens,
also enclosed behind and at the sides by hewn
planks, so that their gardens, court-yards, and houses
are arranged in very good order, with a stockade
against a sudden attack. At the ends of the streets
there are three wooden gates. Their government is
after the English form. The governor is annually
elected. In inheritance they place all children in
one degree, only the eldest has an acknowledgment
of seniority. They have made stringent laws on
the subject of adultery and fornication, and these
ordinances they enforce very strictly, even among
the savage tribes which live amongst them.</p>

<p>“Their farms are not so good as ours at New
Amsterdam, because they are more stony, and consequently
not so fit for the plough. They have their
freedom without rendering an account to any one;
only, if their king should choose to send them a
governor, they would be obliged to recognize him
as sovereign chief. The maize-seed which they do
not require for their own use they deliver over to
the governor, at three guilders the bushel, who, in
his turn, sends it in sloops to the north for the
traffic in skins amongst the savages. They reckon
one bushel of maize against one pound of beaver-skins.
They have better means of living than ourselves,
since fish swim in abundance before their
very doors. There are also many birds, such as
geese, herons, and cranes, and other small-legged<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span>
birds, which are seen in flocks here in the winter.</p>

<p>“The tribes in this neighborhood have the same
customs as with us, only they are better conducted
than ours, because the English treat them fairly,
and give them the example of better ordinances and
a better life; and also, to a certain degree, give
them laws, by means of the respect they have from
the very first established amongst them.”<a id="FNanchor_571" href="#Footnote_571" class="fnanchor">[571]</a></p>

<p>In 1629, the bulk of the long lingering Leyden
exiles—among the rest the wife and two sons of
John Robinson<a id="FNanchor_572" href="#Footnote_572" class="fnanchor">[572]</a>—at length landed at Plymouth.<a id="FNanchor_573" href="#Footnote_573" class="fnanchor">[573]</a>
The reunited flock, now sadly thinned by death,
greeted each other with mutual tears and caresses;
and tightly-clasped hands and wet eyes told what
the voice was too choked to say. But in the midst
of sadness they were joyous, for</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Hope was changed to glad fruition;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>The expense of transporting these friends was
very heavy, amounting in the aggregate to six hundred
pounds, as we learn by opening Allerton’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span>
charge roll.<a id="FNanchor_574" href="#Footnote_574" class="fnanchor">[574]</a> Nor was this all; destitute and homeless,
they had to be maintained the better part of
fifteen months before they were able to stand on
their own feet, and pay their way. They had no
harvest of their own to reap. Land was given them
and block-houses were run up for their shelter.
Then they planted “against the coming of another
season.”<a id="FNanchor_575" href="#Footnote_575" class="fnanchor">[575]</a> The Pilgrims, though already overloaded
with debt, did not grudge this large addition to the
budget of expense, but showed herein “a rare example
of brotherly love and Christian care;” for
Bradford says that “even thus they were, for the
most part, both welcome and useful, as they feared
God and were sober livers.”<a id="FNanchor_576" href="#Footnote_576" class="fnanchor">[576]</a></p>

<p>But if the devout colonists of the Plymouth
slope were “sober livers,” all their neighbors were
not. It seems that some years before this time,
perhaps in 1625, perhaps a twelvemonth earlier,
an English Captain Wollaston, inoculated with the
general rage for planting settlements, had attempted
to drop one on that rocky height near Boston
bay which still bears his name.<a id="FNanchor_577" href="#Footnote_577" class="fnanchor">[577]</a> Like the foolish
architect in the Bible, he built on a sandy foundation,
though his colony was bottomed on a rock—so
strange are the paradoxes of this mortal life.
“Not finding things to answer his expectations,” he
did not tarry long in his eyry, but pressed on into
Virginia with a portion of his emigrants, intending<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span>
soon to return for the rest.<a id="FNanchor_578" href="#Footnote_578" class="fnanchor">[578]</a> So much for the intention.
But in his absence one of his followers,
Thomas Morton, “who had been a kind of pettifogger,
of Fernival’s Inn,” London, and was now broken
down into an uneasy bloat, ripe for mischief, obtained
an ascendency over the waiting colonists, and thereby
assumed control. “Then,” says the old recitor,
“they fell into great licentiousness of life, in all
profaneness, Morton becoming lord of misrule, and
maintaining, as it were, a school of atheism. Having
gotten some goods into their hands by much
trading with the Indians, they spent all vainly in
quaffing both wine and stronger liquors in great
excess—as some have reported, as much as ten
pounds’ worth of a morning. They also set up a
May-pole, and danced and drank around it, frisking
about like so many fairies, or <em>furies</em> rather: and
worse practices they had, as if they sought anew
to revive and celebrate the obscene feast of the
Roman goddess Flora, or the beastly practices of
the mad Bacchanalians. Morton pretended withal
to be a poet, and composing sundry rhymes and
loose verses, some tending to lasciviousness and
others to detraction and scandal, he affixed these
to his idle, or <em>idol</em>, May-pole. The name of the
height was changed; it was called ‘Merry-Mount,’
as if this jollity would have been perpetual.</p>

<p>“Now to maintain this riotous prodigality and
profuse expenditure, Morton, esteeming himself lawless,
and hearing what gain the fishermen made by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span>
trading muskets, powder, and shot amongst themselves,
decided, as head of this consortship, to begin
the practice in these parts among the Indians, teaching
them how to use, charge, and fire their pieces,
and the kind of shot fitted to be used for different
purposes, as hunting and war. Infinite was the
mischief which came by this wicked man’s greed;
in that, despite all laws for the restraint of selling
ammunition and weapons to the natives, base covetousness
so far prevailed, that the Indians became
amply provided with guns, powder, shot, rapiers,
and pistols, also well skilled in their use, and in the
repair of defective arms.”<a id="FNanchor_579" href="#Footnote_579" class="fnanchor">[579]</a></p>

<p>These things, together with the debauchery of
Indian women and the incitement of his flaunting
and unwhipped crimes, which drew the dissolute from
all directions to swell his rabble rout, filled the surrounding
colonists with mingled grief and alarm.
At the outset expostulation was essayed. “In a
friendly and neighborly way, Morton was admonished
to forbear these courses.” A peculiar characteristic
reveals the man—<i lang="la">Ex pede Herculem.</i> The
anarch refused to desist.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Obtaining false rules prankt in reason’s garb,”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">he denied the jurisdiction of Plymouth, and answered
the remonstrance with an affront. A second
appeal was equally futile. Then, with their accustomed
stern decision, the Pilgrims acted. Standish
was sent to curb this bold blasphemer. “Morton
fortified his comrades with drink, barricaded his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span>
house, and defied assault.” But happily no blood
was spilled. The reckless, graceless rake succumbed
without a fight. He was taken first to Plymouth,
and thence conveyed to England for trial. And so
ended this experiment of immorality.<a id="FNanchor_580" href="#Footnote_580" class="fnanchor">[580]</a></p>

<p>This episode, with others, is convincing proof
that the Pilgrims had not wandered into Utopia;
nor did they seek that fabled bourne. They expected
trouble, and they serenely accepted toil,
thanking God just as joyfully for a little as for
much. And, indeed, they felt that they walked on
mercies. They “found all things working together
for their good.” They had already planted a stable
government, which had been severely tested by open
outbreak and by insidious assault. Their friends
had found their way to them across the sea; and
since they had</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent8">“Informed their unacquainted feet</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">In the blind mazes of this tangled wood,”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">their infant state had been emancipated from the
mercantile dictation of unfriendly men. The bitterness
was past; the night was nearly spent. Jocund
day stood a-tip-toe on the misty mountain’s
top. They rested on God’s heart. Surely, they
had occasion to</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">——“shake the depths of the desert gloom</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">With their hymns of lofty cheer.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>They might fitly chant pæans, and sing till</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent2">——“the stars heard and the sea!</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And the sounding isles of the dim woods rang</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">To the anthem of the free.”</div>
</div>
</div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.<br>
<span class="fs80">EBENEZER.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Behold, they come, those sainted forms,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Unshaken through the strife of storms;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Heaven’s darkest cloud hangs coldly down,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And earth puts on its rudest frown;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">But colder, ruder was the hand,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">That drove them from their own dear land.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent32"><span class="smcap">Sprague.</span></div>
</div>
</div>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“These are the living lights,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">That from our bold, green heights,</div>
    <div class="verse indent4">Shall shine afar,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Till they who name the name</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of freedom, towards the flame</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Come, as the Magi came</div>
    <div class="verse indent4">Towards Bethlehem’s star.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent32"><span class="smcap">Pierpont.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>While the Plymouth Pilgrims, through these
initial years, were engaged in a stern tussle with
unkempt nature, in a wrestling-match with froward
men, and in an essay to survive the “thousand natural
ills that flesh is heir to” in new settlements,
writing <i lang="la">victoria sine clade</i> on every page of the struggle,
the Scripture party in England was floundering
in a “slough of despond.” Charles I. was that
most strange and baleful of anomalies, a treacherous
moralist. He was the painting of a virtue.
Outwardly he was Cato; inwardly he was Iago.
“This prince,” says Bolingbroke, “had sucked in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span>
with his mother’s milk those absurd principles
which his father was so industrious, and, unhappily,
so successful in propagating.”<a id="FNanchor_581" href="#Footnote_581" class="fnanchor">[581]</a> Back of him
stood a powerful faction, omnipotent in the church,
regnant in the state, as wedded as himself to the
tenets of absolutism, and eager to cry Amen to his
most doubtful acts—often, indeed, instigating them.</p>

<p>Both the king and his backers were enamoured
of that formal Pharisecism which made broad its
phylactery, and wrote “holier than thou” upon its
forehead. Of course, then, they could not but hate
those godly Puritans, both inside and outside of the
national Establishment, who, like a reproving Nathan,
constantly inveighed against self-righteous
ceremonialism, and sought to inaugurate a purer
and more spiritual ecclesiasticism. The Conformists
had the power, as they had the will. Elizabeth
had commenced this crusade against the “Gospellers;”
James I. had continued the “harry;” but
Charles I. outdid Termagant, and he did out-Herod
Herod. Puritanism was girt with a penal code;
and now, choked almost purple, it gazed with an
agony of interest across the water to America, to
see if haply it might here find an asylum. The
chances of a successful colonization of these Western
wilds were ardently canvassed. The progress
of the Pilgrim settlement was closely watched, and
the spirits of the English Puritans were at high or
ebb tide in proportion as that test enterprise seemed
to oscillate towards success or eclipse. As yet only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span>
the low premonitory moanings of the revolution of
1641 were heard. Throughout the island, godly
men began to think of seeking safety and freedom
of conscience in exile; and in this they were encouraged
by the <i lang="la">experimentum crucis</i> of Plymouth.
“I pray you,” wrote Shirley, the English agent of
the Pilgrims, “subordinate all temporal things to
success, that you may disappoint the hopes of our
foes, and keep open an asylum into which we may
all soon crowd, unless things mend in this now
stricken island.”<a id="FNanchor_582" href="#Footnote_582" class="fnanchor">[582]</a></p>

<p>But “things did not mend,” and multitudes began
to prepare for emigration. And here mark a
singular fact. We have seen how disastrously those
enterprises failed which bottomed colonization simply
on the greed of gain. The victor’s bays were
only for the brow of moral pioneers. It was as
though God had said, “No; I will not plant men
in New England who count religion only twelve
and the world thirteen.” The only successful colonists
of the northeastern coast-line of the Atlantic
were men whose motive for emigration was religion,
and who based their action on an idea—faith.</p>

<p>It happened, in 1624, that Roger Conant, “a
most religious, prudent, worthy gentleman,” and a
Puritan, but not a Separatist, somewhat dissatisfied
with the rigid rule of Bradford, left Plymouth in the
crisis of the Lyford muddle,<a id="FNanchor_583" href="#Footnote_583" class="fnanchor">[583]</a> and entering his pinnace,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span>
sailed across the bay to Nantasket.<a id="FNanchor_584" href="#Footnote_584" class="fnanchor">[584]</a> Tarrying
there but a twelvemonth, he pushed on to Cape
Ann; where, finding a knot of fishermen who resided
there permanently, occupying themselves in curing
fish in the absence of the smacks of their fellow-<i lang="fr">voyageurs</i>,
he resolved to pause. While sojourning
here, the English merchants who had sent out these
fishermen who here stood huddled together on the
cape, appointed Conant their agent; whereupon he,
“not liking the present site, transported his company
to Naumkeag, some five leagues distant, to the
southwest of Cape Ann.”<a id="FNanchor_585" href="#Footnote_585" class="fnanchor">[585]</a></p>

<p>But neither removal nor Conant’s energy saved
this venture from financial collapse;<a id="FNanchor_586" href="#Footnote_586" class="fnanchor">[586]</a> and the brave
pioneer, in 1625, found himself deserted by most of
his companions and without an occupation, in the
midst of the tenantless huts of frustrated trade.
Then religious sentiment came to his rescue. “To
the eye of faith, mountains are crystal, distance
may be shaken hands with, oceans are nothing.”
So now old John White of Dorchester, in England,
“a famous Puritan divine of great gravity, presence,
and influence,” zealous to “spread the gospel
and to establish his way,” looking across the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span>
Atlantic, descried Conant, a lonely sentinel of Puritanism
on the northern shore.<a id="FNanchor_587" href="#Footnote_587" class="fnanchor">[587]</a> The sagacious pastor
saw in Naumkeag a <i lang="fr">point d’appui</i>. He at once
wrote Conant: “I have been apprized of the failure
of the merchants; but do not desert your post. I
promise that if you, with Woodbury, Balch, and
Palfrey, the three honest and prudent men lately
employed in the fisheries, will stay at Naumkeag,
I will procure a patent for you, and likewise send
you whatever you write for, either men, or provisions,
or goods wherewith to begin an Indian
trade.”<a id="FNanchor_588" href="#Footnote_588" class="fnanchor">[588]</a></p>

<p>Surprised and reinvigorated, Conant prevailed,
though not without difficulty, on his companions to
remain with him, and they all “stayed at the peril
of their lives.”<a id="FNanchor_589" href="#Footnote_589" class="fnanchor">[589]</a></p>

<p>In 1627, Woodbury sailed for England in quest
of supplies.<a id="FNanchor_590" href="#Footnote_590" class="fnanchor">[590]</a> Meantime “the business came to agitation
in London; and being at first approved by
some and disliked by others, by dint of much argument
and disputation, it grew to be well known;
insomuch that, some men showing affection for the
work, and offering the help of their purses if fit
men might be procured to go over, inquiry was
made whether any would be willing to engage their
persons in the voyage. Thus it fell out that at last
they lighted, among others, on John Endicott, a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span>
man well known to divers persons of good repute.
He manifested much willingness to accept of the
offer as soon as it was tendered, which gave great
encouragement to such as were still doubtful about
setting on this work of erecting a new colony on an
old foundation.”<a id="FNanchor_591" href="#Footnote_591" class="fnanchor">[591]</a></p>

<p>Under the patronage of Dudley, and Saltonstall,
and Eaton, and Pyncheon, and Bellingham,
men of substance and “gentlemen born,” men willing
and able to offer “the help of their purses,”
reinforced by the good wishes of Puritanism at
large, the new scheme soon got upon its working
feet, and walked forward to success. But so far
the project rested on parchment. It must be vivified,
and sheltered beneath the <i lang="la">imprimatur</i> of a hostile
government. “Many riddles must be resolved,”
said old Shirley, “and many locks must be opened
by the silver, nay, the golden key.”<a id="FNanchor_592" href="#Footnote_592" class="fnanchor">[592]</a> So they purchased
of the Council for New England “a strip of
land, in width three miles, north of the Merrimack,
and three miles south of the Charles river, and running
back from the Atlantic to the Western ocean;
so that they were not likely to be crowded.”<a id="FNanchor_593" href="#Footnote_593" class="fnanchor">[593]</a> Thus,
though it might say as the chief captain Lysias said
to Paul, “With a great sum of money obtained I
this freedom,” the new colony had “a local habitation
and a name” ere it was launched.</p>

<p>It has been well said, that Endicott was just the
man to lead this venture; firm, rugged, hopeful,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span>
zealous, devout, he knew no such word as fail. So
on the 20th of June, 1628, he took his wife and children,
and “not much above fifty or sixty other persons,”
and plunged across the water.<a id="FNanchor_594" href="#Footnote_594" class="fnanchor">[594]</a></p>

<p>They reached New England in the autumn<a id="FNanchor_595" href="#Footnote_595" class="fnanchor">[595]</a>—that
hazy, glowing, golden season, when the woods
hang out their myriad-tinted banners to the wind,
when the streams gurgle most laughingly, when
Nature claps her hands with joy, and the</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Hills, rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">smooth their wrinkled fronts into unwonted softness.
Endicott must have had quite a different idea
of the western wilds from that which stern, icy December
daguerreotyped upon the minds of Bradford
and his coadjutors.</p>

<p>At once fraternizing with Conant’s sentinel
squad—apprized of their coming by Woodbury,
who had returned ere Endicott sailed—the new-comers
proceeded to put up additional cottages;
and they called the nascent hamlet <em>Salem</em>, “for the
<em>peace</em> which they had and hoped in it.”<a id="FNanchor_596" href="#Footnote_596" class="fnanchor">[596]</a> Like their
brothers at Plymouth, they immediately began to explore
the surrounding country. Imagine their surprise
when, on one occasion, they stumbled across
“an English palisaded and thatched house.” Approaching
cautiously, they heard the ringing music
of an anvil. Here, in the heart of the wilderness,
lived Thomas Walford, a hermit smith who had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span>
won wide favor with the Indians by his skill in
working metals.<a id="FNanchor_597" href="#Footnote_597" class="fnanchor">[597]</a></p>

<p>From this and kindred incidents, historians have
loved to draw a moral, depicting the excess of individuality
which marks the Teutonic races. The
Saxon inevitably individuates. He can stand alone;
is self-reliant and aggressive; asks only, with the old
cynic, that intruders shall get out of his sunlight.
He does not gather into cities because he is weak,
nor because he is social. He is willing, for a purpose,
to go out from men, and to create a society
patterned on his own model. ’Tis a high quality
when properly attempered, making individuals
kings and nations independent. It explores and
subdues unknown and dreaded continents, and is
the father of that marvellous enterprise which to-day
realizes Puck’s prophecy, and “puts a girdle
round the earth in forty minutes.”</p>

<p>Walford’s hermitage was in Mishawam. The
locality seemed favorable for a settlement. The
explorers returned to Salem with their report; and
ere long “a portion of the colonists established
themselves around the forge of the sturdy blacksmith;
and with the old patriotic feeling, which
neither wrongs nor sufferings could altogether root
out, they named the new settlement <em>Charlestown</em>,
in honor of a king whose severities had driven
them from the land of their fathers.”<a id="FNanchor_598" href="#Footnote_598" class="fnanchor">[598]</a></p>

<p>The report of Endicott’s successful colonization,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span>
which reached England early in 1629, encouraged
White, “the main promoter and chief organizer of
this business,” to plant the adventure upon a
broader, firmer foundation. The original company
was but a voluntary, unincorporated partnership.<a id="FNanchor_599" href="#Footnote_599" class="fnanchor">[599]</a>
This was now “much enlarged” by recruits from
the Puritans “disaffected to the rulers in church
and state.”<a id="FNanchor_600" href="#Footnote_600" class="fnanchor">[600]</a> The next step was, to get a charter
and an incorporation. This was solicited, and after
some little difficulty and delay, obtained. On the
4th of March, 1629, Charles I. affixed the royal
seal to a parchment which erected White’s coterie
into a body politic, under the title of “The Governor
and Company of Massachusetts Bay, in New
England.”<a id="FNanchor_601" href="#Footnote_601" class="fnanchor">[601]</a></p>

<p>“The patent passed the seals a few days only
before Charles I., in a public state paper, avowed
his design of governing England without a Parliament.”<a id="FNanchor_602" href="#Footnote_602" class="fnanchor">[602]</a>
It was cherished by the colonists for more
than half a century as a most precious boon; and
the old charter<a id="FNanchor_603" href="#Footnote_603" class="fnanchor">[603]</a> is the germ of that “bright, consummate
flower,” the later constitution.<a id="FNanchor_604" href="#Footnote_604" class="fnanchor">[604]</a></p>

<p>“The administration of the affairs of this puissant
corporation,” remarks Bancroft, “was intrusted
to a governor, a deputy, and eighteen assistants,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span>
who were to be annually elected by a general vote
of the members of the body politic. Four times a
year, or oftener if desired, a general assembly of
the freemen was to be held; and to these assemblies,
which were invested with the necessary powers
of legislation, inquest, and superintendence, the
most important matters were referred. No provision
required the assent of the king to render the
acts of the colonial authorities valid. In his eye it
was but a trading corporation, not a civil government.
Its doings were esteemed as indifferent as
those of any guild in England; and if grave powers
of jurisdiction in America were conceded, it was
only because successful trade demanded the concession.”<a id="FNanchor_605" href="#Footnote_605" class="fnanchor">[605]</a></p>

<p>Nothing was said of religious liberty. The
crown may have relied on its power to restrain it;
the emigrants may have trusted to distance or
obscurity to protect it.<a id="FNanchor_606" href="#Footnote_606" class="fnanchor">[606]</a> But enough was gained.
The charter necessitated full liberty. “If you plant
an oak in a flower-vase,” says Goethe, “either the
oak must wither or the vase must crack.” The
Puritans meant to let it crack. It is singular that
neither Charles nor his lynx-eyed ministers should
have detected the freedom or scented the heresy
which lurked in the broad terms of the glorious old
parchment.</p>

<p>In the old legend, a fisherman took a casket out
of the sea, and found on its cover the <ins class="corr" id="tn-258" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'seal of Soloomon'">
seal of Solomon</ins>. He broke it, and out of the slender casket<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span>
rose a giant till he lifted into colossal shape, and
raised his right hand to crash the interloper. So
now Charles broke the Solomon-seal of his coercion,
and enabled this young giant of the West to
rise to its legitimate proportions, clutching in its
right hand the wholesome sceptre which should
crush all obstacles to progressive liberty. In the
fable, the fisherman, by a cunning story, lured the
giant to go back into the casket, which he then
tossed back again into the sea. But neither Charles
nor his successors could ever persuade America to
go back into the box.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.<br>
<span class="fs80">“FAREWELL, DEAR ENGLAND.”</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“With news the time’s in labor, and throws forth</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Each minute some.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent32"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div>
</div>
</div>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Why should we crave a hallowed spot?</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">An altar is in each man’s cot;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">A church in every grove that spreads</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Its living roof above our heads.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent28"><span class="smcap">Wordsworth.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>With the precious charter in its pocket, the
complacent Massachusetts Company strode out of
the royal antechamber, and proceeded at once to
effect an organization. Matthew Cradock was
elected to the gubernatorial chair; and to Endicott,
as deputy, was delegated the government of
New England.<a id="FNanchor_607" href="#Footnote_607" class="fnanchor">[607]</a></p>

<p>A letter of instructions was indited. It was
unique, and highly illustrative of the benevolent
spirit of these builders of states—<i lang="la">Conditores Imperiorum</i>—to
whose brotherhood Lord Bacon, in “the
true marshalling of the sovereign degrees of honor,”
assigns the highest place.<a id="FNanchor_608" href="#Footnote_608" class="fnanchor">[608]</a> Let us cull some specimen
paragraphs from the old parchment: “If any
of the savages”—such were the orders long and
uniformly followed and placed on record more than<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span>
half a century before William Penn proclaimed the
principles of peace on the borders of the Delaware<a id="FNanchor_609" href="#Footnote_609" class="fnanchor">[609]</a>—“pretend
right of inheritance to all or any
part of the lands granted in our patent, we pray you
endeavor to purchase their title, that we may avoid
the least scruple of intrusion.”<a id="FNanchor_610" href="#Footnote_610" class="fnanchor">[610]</a> Elsewhere the
colonial authorities were bidden “particularly to
publish, that no wrong nor injury be offered to the
Indians.”<a id="FNanchor_611" href="#Footnote_611" class="fnanchor">[611]</a></p>

<p>Tobacco was held in especial abhorrence, and
denounced as “a trade by this whole Company disowned,
and utterly disclaimed by some of the chiefest,
who absolutely declare themselves unwilling to
have a hand in the plantation, if the intention be
to cherish or permit the culture thereof.”<a id="FNanchor_612" href="#Footnote_612" class="fnanchor">[612]</a></p>

<p>Endicott was authorized to expel the incorrigible,
using force when necessary. It was also appointed
that all labor should cease at “three o’clock
on Saturday afternoon, in preparation for the Sabbath.”<a id="FNanchor_613" href="#Footnote_613" class="fnanchor">[613]</a></p>

<p>The colonial seal was an Indian erect, with an
arrow in his right hand, and the motto, “Come
over and help us,” peculiarly appropriate in that
age. The old seal has been retained by Massachusetts;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span>
but the motto has been superseded by Algernon
Sydney’s famous Latin, <i lang="la">Sub libertate quietem</i>.<a id="FNanchor_614" href="#Footnote_614" class="fnanchor">[614]</a></p>

<p>“No idle drone may live amongst us;” so ran
the colonial statute; and it “was the spirit as well
as the law of the dauntless community which was
to turn the sterility of New England into a cluster
of wealthy, cultured, model states.”</p>

<p>The charter had been granted to the Massachusetts
Company in March; in April preparations
were hastening for the embarkation of fresh emigrants.<a id="FNanchor_615" href="#Footnote_615" class="fnanchor">[615]</a>
It was not difficult to get recruits; for
the pinchers of tender consciences grew daily more
rigorous. Puritanism saw popery preparing to
spring upon it upon one side; it felt the ravenous
bite of the Conformists on the other side. It was
worse than folly to look to the government for redress;
that was the engine of the persecutors. Villiers
of Buckingham, that volatile madman, who was</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Every thing by turns, and nothing long,”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">as Pope has painted him, had been recently assassinated.
His place in the king’s confidence was
now filled by Strafford, the systematizer of tyranny
in England, whose audacious genius impelled him
to attempt to nationalize despotism, and erected
the tenets of absolute power inside of constitutional
forms.<a id="FNanchor_616" href="#Footnote_616" class="fnanchor">[616]</a> By his side stood Laud, his Siamese
twin, a prelate who assumed to ransack the universe—</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span></p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent12">“Whose tongue</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Outvenomed all the worms of Nile.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">The statesman and the priest carried it with a high
hand;<a id="FNanchor_617" href="#Footnote_617" class="fnanchor">[617]</a> and the time was not yet when Cozens could
say, “The king has no more authority in ecclesiastical
matters than the boy who rubs my horse’s
heels.”<a id="FNanchor_618" href="#Footnote_618" class="fnanchor">[618]</a></p>

<p>The suffering Non-conformists, “meted and
peeled” at home, heard with rapture of that Puritan
colony in the wilderness, governed by men
whose opinions accorded with their own, and sheltered
beneath the ægis of a royal charter. Emigration
began to assume unprecedented proportions;<a id="FNanchor_619" href="#Footnote_619" class="fnanchor">[619]</a>
and the Company might have its pick of the
best men in the island. But much good seed was
left; enough to grow Cromwell, and nourish Hampden,
and succor Pym.</p>

<p>By the middle of April, 1629, six ships were
ready to sail; and under license from the Lord
Treasurer, these were freighted with “eighty women
and maids and twenty-six children”—hostages
of the fixed attachment of the emigrants to the New
World—“and two hundred men, with victuals, arms,
tools, and necessary wearing apparel.”<a id="FNanchor_620" href="#Footnote_620" class="fnanchor">[620]</a> They also
took on board “one hundred and forty head of cattle,
and forty goats.”<a id="FNanchor_621" href="#Footnote_621" class="fnanchor">[621]</a></p>

<p>As this was a religious enterprise, care was taken<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span>
“to make plentiful provision of godly ministers.”<a id="FNanchor_622" href="#Footnote_622" class="fnanchor">[622]</a>
Four clergymen now embarked for Massachusetts
Bay. Two of these made no figure on the north
shore of New England. Bright was a strict Conformist;
and not liking the ecclesiastical proceedings
of his comrades, he returned to England in the
succeeding summer.<a id="FNanchor_623" href="#Footnote_623" class="fnanchor">[623]</a> Smith was a Separatist; and
since these Puritans were not yet “Come-outers,”
they were shy of him, so that in landing he went
to Nantasket,<a id="FNanchor_624" href="#Footnote_624" class="fnanchor">[624]</a> where we shall meet him again.
The remaining two were Mr. Higginson and Mr.
Skelton; the first of Leicestershire, the other of
Lincolnshire.<a id="FNanchor_625" href="#Footnote_625" class="fnanchor">[625]</a> They were both ardent Puritans,
who had held livings in the Church of England,
and been silenced for non-conformity.<a id="FNanchor_626" href="#Footnote_626" class="fnanchor">[626]</a> On receiving
an invitation to accompany this expedition,
they had “esteemed it a call from heaven,” and
joyfully assented.<a id="FNanchor_627" href="#Footnote_627" class="fnanchor">[627]</a> “Both of these men,” says
Cotton Mather, “were eminent for learning and
virtue; and being thus in a sense driven out of
England, they sought graves on the American
strand, whereon the epitaph might be inscribed
that was on Scipio’s: <i lang="la">Ingrata patria, ne mortui
quidem habebis ossa.</i>”<a id="FNanchor_628" href="#Footnote_628" class="fnanchor">[628]</a> But unlike the ill-used<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span>
pagan, they had no taunts for their erring country.
“We will not say,” cried Francis Higginson, as he
stood on deck off the Isle of Wight, and looked
back on the receding shores of the fast-anchored
island—“We will not say, Farewell, Babylon,
Farewell, Rome! but, Farewell, dear England!”<a id="FNanchor_629" href="#Footnote_629" class="fnanchor">[629]</a></p>

<p>“England did not regret the departure of these
Christian heroes, because she did not know her best
men. What nation does? To materialists and politicians,
these Pilgrims seemed to be visionaries
and idealists; impracticable, and in the way. Yet
this class is always the life of a nation. We can
look back upon them, and surfeit them with praise;
but we cannot easily see their mates walking amongst
us, treading our own sidewalks, and so learn to cherish,
and not kill the prophets.”<a id="FNanchor_630" href="#Footnote_630" class="fnanchor">[630]</a></p>

<p>Higginson, Skelton, and their future parishioners,
landed at Salem “in the last days of June.”<a id="FNanchor_631" href="#Footnote_631" class="fnanchor">[631]</a>
Their friends already on the spot gave them a
hearty pioneer welcome. Higginson employed his
first leisure moments in writing home a transcript
of the situation: “When we came first to Naumkeag,
we found about half a score of cottages, and
a fair house built for the governor. We found also
abundance of corn planted by those here, very good
and well-liking. The two hundred passengers whom
we brought were, by common consent of the old
planters, combined together into one body politic,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span>
under the same governor. There are in all of us,
both old and new planters, about three hundred;
whereof two hundred are planted at Naumkeag,
now called Salem, and the rest have settled at Massachusetts
Bay, beginning to build a town there,
which we call Charlestown. But that which is our
greatest comfort, and our means of defence above
all others, is, that we have here the true religion
and holy ordinances of Almighty God taught
amongst us. Thanks be to God, we have here
plenty of preaching and diligent catechizing, with
strict and careful exercise and good and commendable
order to bring our people into a Christian
conversation with those with whom we have to do
withal. And thus we doubt not but God will be
with us; and if God be with us, who can be against
us?”<a id="FNanchor_632" href="#Footnote_632" class="fnanchor">[632]</a></p>

<p>On their arrival at Salem, these Massachusetts
Pilgrims found no church. It was their first care
to erect one; and in the prosecution of this work,
they had recourse to the devout Plymouth colonists,
their brothers in the faith. Cordial greetings had
already been exchanged between these sister colonies.
About the time of the arrival of Higginson,
“an infection had spread among the northern pioneers,
of which many died; some of the scurvy, others
of a hectic fever.”<a id="FNanchor_633" href="#Footnote_633" class="fnanchor">[633]</a> Endicott had sent a missive
to Plymouth at this time, requesting medical
aid, as he had no leech with him. Bradford immediately<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span>
sent Thomas Fuller, physician to his plantation,
and the first in New England—for he was a
comer in the “Mayflower”—to the relief of the
Salem sufferers, and armed him with an affectionate
letter of condolence and Christian sympathy.<a id="FNanchor_634" href="#Footnote_634" class="fnanchor">[634]</a></p>

<p>These lines, and the prompt despatch of the
surgeon, Endicott thus acknowledged:</p>

<div class="blockquotx">

<p>“<span class="smcap">Right Worthy Sir</span>—It is a thing not usual
that servants to one Master and of the same household
should be strangers; I assure you, I desire it
not; nay, to speak more plainly, I cannot be so to
you. God’s people are all marked with one and the
same mark and sealed with one and the same seal,
and have, in the main, one and the same heart,
guided by one and the same Spirit of truth; and
where this is, there can be no discord; nay, here
must needs be sweet harmony. And the same
request, with you, I make unto the Lord—that we
may, as Christian brethren, be united by a heavenly
and unfeigned love, bending all our hearts and
forces in furthering a work beyond our unaided
strength, with reverence and fear, fastening our
eyes always on Him that is able to direct and prosper
all our ways.</p>

<p>“I acknowledge myself much bound to you for
your kind love and care in sending Mr. Fuller
among us, and rejoice much that I am by him satisfied
touching your judgments of the outward form
of God’s worship. It is, so far as I can gather, no
other than is warranted by the evidence of truth,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span>
and the same which I have professed and maintained
ever since the Lord in mercy revealed himself
to me; being far from the common report that
hath been spread of you touching this particular.<a id="FNanchor_635" href="#Footnote_635" class="fnanchor">[635]</a>
But God’s children must not look for less here below
than ill-report and slanderous gibes; and ’tis a
great mercy that he strengthens them to go through
with it. I shall not need, at this time, to be tedious
unto you, for, God willing, I purpose to see your
face shortly. In the mean time, I humbly take my
leave of you, committing you to the Lord’s blessed
protection and rest.</p>

<p class="right">
<span style="margin-right: 15.5em;">“Your assured Friend,</span><br>
“JO. ENDICOTT.<br>
</p>

<p>“<span class="smcap">Naumkeag</span>, May 11, 1629.”<a id="FNanchor_636" href="#Footnote_636" class="fnanchor">[636]</a></p>
</div>

<p>The chain of friendship thus early welded had
an additional link added to it when the Leyden
exiles, borne to America in company with Higginson
and Skelton, landed from the same flotilla, and
pushed from Salem on to Plymouth. Bradford, in
reciting this incident, says finely, “Their long stay
and keeping back was recompensed by the Lord to
their friends here with a double blessing, in that
they not only enjoyed them now beyond their late
expectation, but with them many more godly friends
and Christian brothers, as the beginning of a larger
harvest unto the Lord, in the increase of his churches
and people in these waste parts, to the admiration<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span>
of many and the wonder of the world; and that
here should be a resting-place for so many of God’s
children, when so sharp a scourge came upon their
own land. But it was the Lord’s doing, and it
ought to be marvellous in our eyes.”<a id="FNanchor_637" href="#Footnote_637" class="fnanchor">[637]</a></p>

<p>Higginson and Endicott had reached Salem in
the latter part of June, 1629. Some twenty days
later, Endicott “set apart a solemn day of humiliation
for the foundation of a church and the choice
of a pastor and a teacher.”<a id="FNanchor_638" href="#Footnote_638" class="fnanchor">[638]</a> The elder Pilgrims at
Plymouth were invited to be present, and lend their
countenance to the unique ceremony.<a id="FNanchor_639" href="#Footnote_639" class="fnanchor">[639]</a></p>

<p>The 20th of July arrived. The first part of the
day was spent in prayer and preaching; the latter
portion was devoted to the ecclesiastical election.<a id="FNanchor_640" href="#Footnote_640" class="fnanchor">[640]</a>
“It was after this manner,” says Gott—who had
come over with Endicott, and was afterwards a deacon
in the Salem church—in a letter to Bradford
rehearsing the proceedings: “the persons thought
of, who had been ministers in the English Establishment,
were questioned concerning their calling
to preach. They acknowledged that there was a
twofold calling, the one inward, when the Lord
moved the heart of man to take that calling upon
him, and fitted him with gifts for it; the other outward,
and from the people, when a company of believers
are united in a covenant to walk together<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span>
in all the ways of God, and all the male members
are given a free voice in the choice of their church
officers. Now we, being persuaded that these two
men were so qualified as the apostle speaks to Timothy,
‘A bishop must be blameless, sober, apt to
teach,’ we think we may say, as the eunuch said
unto Philip, ‘What should hinder my being baptized,
seeing there is water?’ and he believed. So
those servants of God, clearing all things by their
answers, and being thus fitted, we saw no reason
why we might not freely give our voices for their
election. Therefore every fit member wrote in a
note the name of him whom the Lord moved him
to think fit for a pastor; and so likewise the name
of him whom they would have for a teacher. Mr.
Skelton was chosen pastor, and Mr. Higginson
teacher; and they accepting the choice, Mr. Higginson,
with several others, laid hands on Mr. Skelton,
using prayer therewith; after which there was
an imposition of hands on Mr. Higginson by Mr.
Skelton and the rest.”<a id="FNanchor_641" href="#Footnote_641" class="fnanchor">[641]</a></p>

<p>Bradford, “and some others with him, coming
by sea,” and being “hindered by cross-winds,”
could not reach Salem in the beginning of the ceremony,
but “came into the assembly afterwards,
and gave them the right hand of fellowship, wishing
all prosperity and a blessed success unto such
good beginnings.”<a id="FNanchor_642" href="#Footnote_642" class="fnanchor">[642]</a></p>

<p>Some days after this election, Mr. Higginson<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span>
drew up “A Confession of Faith and Church
Covenant.” Thirty persons assented to it, and a
self-constituted church was planted in the wilderness.<a id="FNanchor_643" href="#Footnote_643" class="fnanchor">[643]</a>
This transaction has determined and colored
the whole religious constitution of New England.
It was a bold and aggressive act. But the
Pilgrims had always objected to the ceremonial law
of the home Establishment; and now, being in the
Western wilds, they felt free to form their ecclesiasticism
on what they conceived to be a more authentic
model. “In their position, such words as
‘Non-conformity’ and ‘Separatism’ ceased to be
significant. It was only important that they should
conform to their view of the Bible; and their determination
to do so was not shaken by the thought
that in doing so they must separate, not in spirit,
but in discipline and usage, from a church three
thousand miles away.”<a id="FNanchor_644" href="#Footnote_644" class="fnanchor">[644]</a></p>

<p>The New England theocracy was begotten of
these proceedings.<a id="FNanchor_645" href="#Footnote_645" class="fnanchor">[645]</a> “The emigrants,” remarks
Bancroft, “were not so much a body politic as a
church in the wilderness, with no benefactor around
them but Nature, no present sovereign but God.
An entire separation was made between church
and state—at least in theory; religious worship
was established on the basis of the independence
of each separate religious community; and these<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span>
rigid Calvinists, of whose rude intolerance the
world had been filled with malignant calumnies,
subscribed a covenant cherishing, it is true, the
severest virtues, but without one tinge of fanaticism.
It was an act of piety, not of study; it favored
virtue, not superstition; inquiry, and not
submission. The communicants were enthusiasts,
but not bigots.”<a id="FNanchor_646" href="#Footnote_646" class="fnanchor">[646]</a> They declared that “the Holy
Scriptures only were to be followed, and no man’s
authority, be he Augustine, Tertullian, or even Cherubim
or Seraphim.”<a id="FNanchor_647" href="#Footnote_647" class="fnanchor">[647]</a></p>

<p>This entire transaction gave dissatisfaction to
some at Salem. Finally, John and Samuel Brown,
“two brothers, the one a merchant, the other a lawyer,
both men of parts, estate, and figure in the
settlement, gathered a company separate from the
public assembly.”<a id="FNanchor_648" href="#Footnote_648" class="fnanchor">[648]</a></p>

<p>Mutual bickerings ensued. A breach of the
peace was threatened.<a id="FNanchor_649" href="#Footnote_649" class="fnanchor">[649]</a> Then Endicott interposed.
He sent the Browns home to England, and thereby
restored quiet.<a id="FNanchor_650" href="#Footnote_650" class="fnanchor">[650]</a></p>

<p>The brothers Brown, on reaching England, carried
a lusty impeachment to the archiepiscopal
throne, then occupied by Laud.<a id="FNanchor_651" href="#Footnote_651" class="fnanchor">[651]</a> The Massachusetts
Company, alarmed by the clamor, wrote letters
of caution to Endicott: “Beware! ’tis possible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span>
some undigested counsels have been too suddenly
put in execution, which may have ill-construction
with the state here, and make us obnoxious
to any adversary;”<a id="FNanchor_652" href="#Footnote_652" class="fnanchor">[652]</a> which shows, not that the
island Puritans did not sympathize with bluff Endicott’s
action, but that they dreaded lest it might
provoke a hostile government to give their pet colony
its <i lang="fr">coup de grâce</i>.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE ARBELLA.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“We will renew the times of truth and justice,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Condensing into a fair free commonwealth,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Not rash equality, but equal rights,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Proportioned like the columns of the temple,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Giving and taking strength reciprocal,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And making firm the whole with grace and beauty,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">So that no part could be removed without</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Infringement of the general harmony.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent21"><span class="smcap">Byron’s</span> <cite>Doge of Venice</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>The success of Endicott and the supplementary
success of the detachments despatched to reinforce
him—success which at the very outset had left the
older settlement at Plymouth, plodding on under a
heavy load of debt and odium, far behind—stirred
English Puritanism as with the blast of a trumpet.
So intense was the interest in the new colony,
throughout the realm, that a tract descriptive of
New England, written by Higginson, and sent over
to England, in manuscript, was printed, and ran
through three editions in as many months.<a id="FNanchor_653" href="#Footnote_653" class="fnanchor">[653]</a> In
every hamlet, on every street-corner, eager groups
met and discussed the right and the policy of emigration;
and the most scrupulous consciences met
the query, “Is it permitted that men fly from persecution?”
by responding, “Yes; for persecution
may lead our posterity to abjure the truth.”</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span></p>

<p>Soon this stir had an effect. Some of the purest,
wealthiest, and best-educated men in England
agreed to embark for America. One thing only had
made them hesitate; the colonial government resided
in England, and was only sifted into New England
by delegation. The charter empowered the company,
and not the colonists, to transport persons,
establish ordinances, and settle government.<a id="FNanchor_654" href="#Footnote_654" class="fnanchor">[654]</a> It
was a chrysalis; it had the face of a commercial
corporation, but was pregnant with the essence of
an independent provincial government. Like the
mermaid, it had a human head, but its body was
the body of a fish. This puissant possibility—who
should evoke it? Who should utter the talismanic
words fit to set free the hidden spirit of self-government?
Matthew Cradock, the governor of the company,
pronounced the “open sesame.” He saw, as
did other sagacious men, that the residence of the
corporate authority in England embarrassed emigration,
barred prosperity, and opened the door to
discord. The colonists sighed for a real governor,
not one in masquerade; and all began to realize
that a government three thousand miles away
could not successfully legislate for a settlement
whose growing necessities came as quickly and
changed as rapidly as the combinations of a kaleidoscope.</p>

<p>So Cradock, with generous self-abnegation, himself
proposed the transfer of the charter to such of
the freemen of the company as should themselves<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span>
inhabit the colony.<a id="FNanchor_655" href="#Footnote_655" class="fnanchor">[655]</a> A heated debate ensued.
Both <em>pros</em> and <em>cons</em> had their say, and the formers of
the project strengthened their argument by pointing
to such men as Winthrop, Saltonstall, Johnson, Dudley,
and Humphrey, all of whom had recently bound
themselves at Cambridge to sail for Massachusetts
Bay, accompanied by their families, provided the
colonial government should be transferred to the
Plantation.<a id="FNanchor_656" href="#Footnote_656" class="fnanchor">[656]</a></p>

<p>This decided the company, and a general assent
was given to the alienation of the patent.<a id="FNanchor_657" href="#Footnote_657" class="fnanchor">[657]</a> Then
came an obstacle. The crown lawyers said, “It is
not so nominated in the bond; you have no right,
standing under this corporation charter in London,
to transfer your power.” Our fathers replied:
“King Charles has granted us certain authority,
but our charter does not bind us to exercise that
authority in England; locality is not specified. We
choose to vote that emigrants shall be freemen, and
to summon a meeting beyond the Atlantic. You
say this was not contemplated; but where is it forbidden?
If you can quibble, so can we. If we
have not the right, we will create it. In the light
of our success lawyers may read the reason and
hunt up a precedent fifty years hence.”</p>

<p>It was thus that Puritanism, strong in faith, bold
in emergencies, met the exigencies and trod down
the difficulties of its epoch. “The corporation did
not sell itself—it emigrated. The patent could not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span>
be assigned; but the patentees could call a legal
meeting in the metropolis, or on board ship in an
English harbor; and why not in the port of Salem
as well as at the Isle of Wight? in a cabin or under
a tree at Charlestown as well as at the house of
Goffe in London?”</p>

<p>Thus it was that a unique and daring construction
transformed a trading company into a municipality—a
change fraught with momentous consequences.
Before this decision all hesitation fell.
The Cambridge friends announced their readiness
to sail, and the old authorities of the Company at
once resigned, in order that their offices might be
filled by the chief emigrants.<a id="FNanchor_658" href="#Footnote_658" class="fnanchor">[658]</a> John Winthrop was
elected governor; John Humphrey was appointed
deputy; and these were reinforced by eighteen assistants.<a id="FNanchor_659" href="#Footnote_659" class="fnanchor">[659]</a>
Just on the eve of embarkation, Humphrey’s
place was supplied by Thomas Dudley, he
being for a space unavoidably detained in England.<a id="FNanchor_660" href="#Footnote_660" class="fnanchor">[660]</a></p>

<p>Winthrop at once accepted the charge; and when
he informed his son of the decision, the younger
Winthrop replied: “I shall call that my country
where I may most glorify God and enjoy the presence
of my dearest friends. Therefore herein I submit myself
to God’s will and yours, and dedicate myself to
Heaven and the Company, with the whole endeavors
both of mind and body. The motives for emigration
are unimpeachable; and it cannot but be a
prosperous action which is so well allowed by the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span>
judgment of God’s prophets, undertaken by so religious
and wise worthies in Israel, and indented to
God’s glory in so special a service.”<a id="FNanchor_661" href="#Footnote_661" class="fnanchor">[661]</a></p>

<p>And now preparations for an extensive emigration
were ardently pushed. The finances of the
Company were put on a new basis. All contributors
to the fund were <i lang="la">ipso facto</i> entitled to a share
in the profits of the colonial trade and to a grant of
Massachusetts land.<a id="FNanchor_662" href="#Footnote_662" class="fnanchor">[662]</a> “The outlay was distributed
in such proportions that it was not burdensome in
any quarter. The richer emigrants submitted to it
joyfully, from public spirit; the poorer as a panacea
for existing evils.”<a id="FNanchor_663" href="#Footnote_663" class="fnanchor">[663]</a></p>

<p>Early in the spring of 1630, ten vessels were
ready to weigh anchor. Richer than the argosies
of the old Venetian or Genoan merchants, this fleet
was freighted with the seed of a future empire;
with the planters of a renovated England, secure in
freedom, firm in religion; with the builders of a
transatlantic Saxon state, bound to realize in its
beneficent order the noblest dreams of English
patriots and sages. Troops of ministering angels
hovered round it to ward off danger, and God’s own
benediction sealed and sanctified the daring venture.</p>

<p>Let us descend into the little cabin of the “Arbella,”
and scan the faces and take the hands—if
we are worthy—of some of the most famous personages
of this august Company of devout <i lang="fr">voyageurs</i>.
The cabin is long, and low, and dark. But ’tis<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span>
lighted now, somewhat dingily, indeed, yet still sufficiently
to enable us to discern a table covered with
maps and legal parchments, round which are ranged
a score of deeply-interested talkers.</p>

<p>That tall, handsome, gentlemanly man, who sits
at the head of the table, is John Winthrop, the new
governor. See what an easy grace there is in his
every movement; he has the port of one habituated
to command, yet he is very gentle withal. His hair
is just touched with silver, and he is in the prime of
life—just forty-two, ripe and mellow. Winthrop is
not a needy, sour adventurer; he comes of an ancient
family long seated at Groton, in Suffolk, where
he has a property whose income yields him six or
seven hundred pounds a year—the equivalent of at
least ten thousand dollars now-a-days. Evidently
he quits England from some higher motive than to
fatten his exchequer. This is he whom Cotton
Mather terms the “Lycurgus of New England;”
“as devout as Numa, but not liable to any of his
heathenish madnesses; a governor in whom the excellences
of Christianity made a most imposing addition
unto the virtues wherein even without these he
would have made a parallel for the great men of
Greece and Rome whom the pen of Plutarch has
eternized.”<a id="FNanchor_664" href="#Footnote_664" class="fnanchor">[664]</a> A calm, unobtrusive, able gentleman,
Winthrop had “studied that book, which, professing
to teach politics, had but three leaves, and on
each leaf but one word—<span class="allsmcap">MODERATION</span>.” He had
been initiated into the mysteries of state-craft when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span>
a boy, for from his youth he had moved in the circles
where the highest questions of English policy were
discussed and elaborated by the familiar associates of
Whitgift, and Bacon, and Essex, and Cecil Burleigh.<a id="FNanchor_665" href="#Footnote_665" class="fnanchor">[665]</a></p>

<p>At the right of Winthrop and chatting pleasantly
with him, stands Thomas Dudley. He is short
and thickset in stature, and stern in expression; a
man fit to lead a forlorn hope. Quick and irascible
in temper, uncompromising when he esteems
himself in the right, every word he utters has the
ring of authority. He is a man who speaks bullets.
His head is grayer than Winthrop’s, but he is still
robust, and he walks with a martial air—and no
wonder, for he is a soldier. Thirty years before
he had borne arms under Henri Quatre in the ranks
of the Huguenots, a service which had indoctrinated
him in the love of civil and religious liberty;<a id="FNanchor_666" href="#Footnote_666" class="fnanchor">[666]</a>
and he was old enough to have seen Sir Philip Sidney,
heard Spencer recite verses to Elizabeth, and
lent a shrill voice to the wild huzza at the defeat of
the Spanish Armada.<a id="FNanchor_667" href="#Footnote_667" class="fnanchor">[667]</a></p>

<p>But who is this that glides up to Winthrop, and,
touching him upon the shoulder, speaks a word in
his ear? It is John Humphrey, “a gentleman of
special parts, of learning and activity, and a godly
man.”<a id="FNanchor_668" href="#Footnote_668" class="fnanchor">[668]</a> He does not sail now, but is here to bid
his friends God-speed.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span></p>

<p>See, yonder, leaning with graceful negligence
against the wainscot of the cabin, lounges a pale,
thoughtful, intellectual young man, with a fine head
and a face whose expression is that of lovable seriousness.
This is Isaac Johnson, the wealthiest of
the Pilgrims, a land-owner in three counties.<a id="FNanchor_669" href="#Footnote_669" class="fnanchor">[669]</a> But
profoundly impressed with the importance of emigration,
and aware of the necessity of an example,
he has risen from the lap of artificial and patrician
life and flung away the softness of a luxurious home
to battle with the rigors of a wilderness. Like
Humphrey, who now approaches to shake hands
with him, he is a son-in-law of the earl of Lincoln,
the head in that day of the now ducal house of Newcastle,<a id="FNanchor_670" href="#Footnote_670" class="fnanchor">[670]</a>
and also, like his relative, he has been the
familiar companion of the patriotic nobles.<a id="FNanchor_671" href="#Footnote_671" class="fnanchor">[671]</a></p>

<p>Johnson now goes out as one of Winthrop’s assistants,
as does also Sir Richard Saltonstall, of
Halifax, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, a bountiful
contributor to the finances of the emigration.<a id="FNanchor_672" href="#Footnote_672" class="fnanchor">[672]</a>
This little man, whose keen, searching eyes take in
every thing without an effort, as he sits quietly on the
left side of the table, is Theophilus Eaton, an eminent
London merchant, but accustomed to courts,
as he had resided at Copenhagen as English minister
to Denmark.<a id="FNanchor_673" href="#Footnote_673" class="fnanchor">[673]</a> That grave, sedate gentleman,
directly opposite Eaton, is Lucien Bradstreet, son
of a dissenting minister in Lincolnshire, and grandson<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span>
of a “Suffolk gentleman of fine estate,” and was
graduated at Emanuel College, Cambridge. By his
side sits William Vassall, an opulent West India
proprietor.<a id="FNanchor_674" href="#Footnote_674" class="fnanchor">[674]</a> These, and some others known to
fame, now stood clustered in the cabin of the “Arbella”—a
little ship of three hundred and fifty tons
burden<a id="FNanchor_675" href="#Footnote_675" class="fnanchor">[675]</a>—forming one of the grandest collections of
friends on any historic canvas.</p>

<p>Nor were they alone. Many of the settlers
had their families with them.<a id="FNanchor_676" href="#Footnote_676" class="fnanchor">[676]</a> The enterprise was
still further hallowed by the unshrinking devotion
of unselfish women. These, inspired by piety and
love, gave up all that is most dear and most essential
to their lives, “security and the comfort of
homes in England, to brave the stormy, frightful
sea, to land on these bleak, wild shores, to front the
miseries and trials of pioneer life, and to sink into
untimely graves, as so many did. These were the
martyrs who laid down their lives for freedom
and for us; to them, therefore, let us uncover our
heads.”<a id="FNanchor_677" href="#Footnote_677" class="fnanchor">[677]</a></p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“By fairy hands their knell is rung,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">By forms unseen their dirge is sung;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">There Honor comes, a Pilgrim gray,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">To bless the turf that wraps their clay;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And Freedom shall awhile repair</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">To dwell, a weeping hermit there.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span></p>

<p>Foremost among these noble women, in position,
in culture, and in sacrifice, stood the Lady
Arbella<a id="FNanchor_678" href="#Footnote_678" class="fnanchor">[678]</a> Johnson. Her heroism has thrown a halo
of poetry around a venture which needed no additional
ray to make it bloom in immortal verse. The
daughter of Earl Lincoln, the idol of her associates,
she was yet a Puritan. Married to Isaac Johnson,
she was indeed a <em>helpmeet</em>, sharing in his feelings
and animating him to loftier exertions. When her
husband resolved to emigrate, she determined to
share his peril, and though ill-fitted to brave the
rigors of an inclement wilderness by her delicate
nature, she answered all objections by saying, “God
will care for me, and I must do my duty.” An exile
voyage was her wedding tour; and so touched were
the Pilgrims by her devotion, that they named their
vessel after her, the “Arbella.”<a id="FNanchor_679" href="#Footnote_679" class="fnanchor">[679]</a></p>

<p>Such was the character, such the home position,
of Winthrop and his coadjutors. Even the prejudiced
and reluctant pen of that high Tory, Chalmers,
though essaying a sneer, had half of its curse
turned into a blessing, for he was compelled to write,
“The principal planters of Massachusetts were English
country gentlemen of no inconsiderable fortunes;
of enlarged understandings, improved by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span>
liberal education; of extensive ambition, concealed
under an appearance of religious humility.”<a id="FNanchor_680" href="#Footnote_680" class="fnanchor">[680]</a></p>

<p>On the 29th of March, 1630, the “Arbella” sailed
from Cowes, off the Isle of Wight, and speeding
down the channel, stopped at Yarmouth to join
her consorts, the “Talbot,” the “Jewel,” the “Ambrose,”
and the rest.<a id="FNanchor_681" href="#Footnote_681" class="fnanchor">[681]</a> Here the self-banished devotees
penned a farewell to their brothers in the faith
who remained in England. Their noble letter concludes
thus: “Wishing our heads and hearts may
be as fountains of tears for your everlasting welfare,
when we shall be in our poor cottages in the
wilderness, overshadowed by the spirit of supplication,
through the manifold necessities and tribulations
which may not altogether unexpectedly, nor,
we hope, unprofitably, befall us, we shall ever rest
assured friends and brethren.”<a id="FNanchor_682" href="#Footnote_682" class="fnanchor">[682]</a></p>

<p>This done, all was done; then, in the early days
of April, favored by the breath of budding spring—fit
season in which to sail—the flotilla lifted anchor
and left Yarmouth, where the feet of these Pilgrims
pressed the soil of their dear England for the last
time.<a id="FNanchor_683" href="#Footnote_683" class="fnanchor">[683]</a> “Sadness was in their hearts, and tears
dimmed their eyes, for they loved the land of their
fathers; they could not forget the tender associations
of youth, nor the holier associations of manhood,
when leaving it for ever. But ‘as the hart<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span>
panteth for the water-brook,’ so their souls longed
for Liberty and God, and they went out full of
hope. With a fair wind they passed the Needles,
St. Albans, Portland, Dartmouth, and the Eddystone,
with its fiery eye, watching for ships over the
broad sea. The Lizard, and at last the Scilly Islands
disappeared, went down day by day in the
blue distance, and were left with the past, till, on
Sunday, the 11th of April, 1630, the little fleet stood
out bravely into the stormy Atlantic.”<a id="FNanchor_684" href="#Footnote_684" class="fnanchor">[684]</a></p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE ARRIVAL.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent14">“Here the architect</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Did not with curious care a pile erect</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of carvéd marble touch, or porphyry,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">But built for God and hospitality.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent24"><span class="smcap">Carew.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>Nine weeks the “Arbella” tossed on the Atlantic;
then the lookout descried the New England
coast-line, and shouted, “Land ho!” “About four
in the morning,” was Winthrop’s entry in his diary
under date of June 12th, “we neared our port, and
shot off two pieces of ordnance.”<a id="FNanchor_685" href="#Footnote_685" class="fnanchor">[685]</a> A little later,
Endicott entered a shallop and was rowed out to
the incoming ship.<a id="FNanchor_686" href="#Footnote_686" class="fnanchor">[686]</a> Greeting the new governor
cordially, he at once conducted him to Salem, where
all “supped on a good venison pastry.”</p>

<p>Winthrop found disease stalking among the settlers,
and provisions nearly spent; but all were
hopeful, though the winter had been hard.<a id="FNanchor_687" href="#Footnote_687" class="fnanchor">[687]</a> The
stores he brought were not unwelcome, but these
were not more heartily received than were those
who brought them; for pioneer life brings out hospitality
and good fellowship; and besides, these
men had common hopes and fears, and were united
in faith and practice.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span></p>

<p>The governor seems not to have been quite satisfied
with Salem as a definitive settlement; for,
pausing there but a week to recruit after the tedious
voyage, he pushed on in search of another place to
“sit down.”<a id="FNanchor_688" href="#Footnote_688" class="fnanchor">[688]</a> Sailing up a bay “made by a great
number of islands, whose high cliffs shoulder out
the sea,” the explorers finally decided upon a spot
on the banks of Charles river, and a settlement was
commenced where Cambridge now stands.<a id="FNanchor_689" href="#Footnote_689" class="fnanchor">[689]</a></p>

<p>Busy days followed. Land was allotted, hunting
parties were sent out; Indians were chatted
with; and thanksgivings for the past and prayers
for the future were offered.<a id="FNanchor_690" href="#Footnote_690" class="fnanchor">[690]</a> But, enfeebled by
fevers and enervated by the scurvy, while the deceitful
river and the marshy ground in its vicinity
bred contagious and miasmal vapors to enshroud
them nightly, the emigrants made little progress in
their most important work, the erection of a town.</p>

<p>Daily the sickness increased, and it haunted
Salem as well as infant Cambridge. In August
there was a large mortality; but September was
the most dreary month. Francis Higginson, who
had been for some time slowly wasting away with
a hectic fever, died in this sad autumn;<a id="FNanchor_691" href="#Footnote_691" class="fnanchor">[691]</a> but “in
the hour of his death the future prosperity of New
England and the coming glories of its many churches
floated in cheerful visions before his eyes.”<a id="FNanchor_692" href="#Footnote_692" class="fnanchor">[692]</a> Then<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span>
death struck another shining mark. The Lady Arbella
Johnson’s fragile frame, coming “from a paradise
of plenty and pleasure into a wilderness of
wants,”<a id="FNanchor_693" href="#Footnote_693" class="fnanchor">[693]</a> succumbed shortly to the dread epidemic,<a id="FNanchor_694" href="#Footnote_694" class="fnanchor">[694]</a>
to the infinite sorrow of her loving friends. Her
death broke the heart of her devoted husband. His
sorrow was too full for utterance; or he might have
hymned it in that verse of Dr. Watts, so pregnant
with tenderness and pathos:</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“I was all love, and she was all delight;</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">Let me run back to seasons past;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Ah! flowery days when first she charmed my sight,—</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">But roses will not always last.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>Isaac Johnson survived the beautiful victim but
a few weeks,<a id="FNanchor_695" href="#Footnote_695" class="fnanchor">[695]</a> then he followed her to immortality
through the grave.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent21">“He tried</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">To live without her, liked it not, and died,”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">said Mather, quaintly.<a id="FNanchor_696" href="#Footnote_696" class="fnanchor">[696]</a> Winthrop, through his
tears, wrote his assistant’s epitaph: “He was a
holy man and wise, and died in sweet peace.”<a id="FNanchor_697" href="#Footnote_697" class="fnanchor">[697]</a></p>

<p>And now the mortality was fearful. Eighty of
Endicott’s colonists had been buried ere the coming
of Winthrop;<a id="FNanchor_698" href="#Footnote_698" class="fnanchor">[698]</a> in the summer and autumn succeeding
his arrival over two hundred died.<a id="FNanchor_699" href="#Footnote_699" class="fnanchor">[699]</a> Death
reaped its hecatombs and battened on corpses. The
Pilgrims wailed out their grief in God’s ear, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span>
kept fasts and appointed days of humiliation. But
He “who doeth all things well” had his own purpose
to subserve, and his hand was not stayed from
smiting till the chill December skies mantled the
earth with snow.<a id="FNanchor_700" href="#Footnote_700" class="fnanchor">[700]</a></p>

<p>Early in September the colonists determined to
desert the pestilential river banks; a few went back
to Salem, some paused at Charleston; others, led
by Winthrop, planted themselves on that neck of
land which is now called Boston.<a id="FNanchor_701" href="#Footnote_701" class="fnanchor">[701]</a></p>

<p>Ere long this peninsula came to be thought the
fittest site for the erection of a colonial capital, and
the 17th of September, 1630, was formally set apart
as the date of its settlement.<a id="FNanchor_702" href="#Footnote_702" class="fnanchor">[702]</a> The spot was then
called <em>Shawmut</em>,<a id="FNanchor_703" href="#Footnote_703" class="fnanchor">[703]</a> and it was picturesquely seated on
a surface which swelled into rising grounds of considerable
height, which have since become famous
as Copp’s hill, Fort hill, and Beacon hill.<a id="FNanchor_704" href="#Footnote_704" class="fnanchor">[704]</a> Rome
sits upon seven hills; Boston is a trimountain city.</p>

<p>Why was it called Boston? Because Boston in
England, a prominent town in Lincolnshire, some
five score miles north of London, had played no inconsiderable
part in the drama of this colonization,
giving to the enterprise some of its chiefest pillars,
among others, Dudley, and Bellingham, and Leverett,
and Coddington.<a id="FNanchor_705" href="#Footnote_705" class="fnanchor">[705]</a> The grateful Pilgrims
thought that they owed the old English city a recognition<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span>
and a tribute; so they gave to their capital
the familiar name of <em>Boston</em>.<a id="FNanchor_706" href="#Footnote_706" class="fnanchor">[706]</a></p>

<p>Shawmut had an occupant previous to its hasty
adoption by the deserters from Cambridge. William
Blackstone, who had come over with Endicott, found
himself cramped even in sparsely-settled Salem; so
he pushed on to Shawmut neck and became sole
proprietor of the whole peninsula, which was afterwards
bought of him. Here he lived ten years, and
saw the foundations of society laid. He was an
eccentric character; and though an ordained clergyman
of the English church, he had Puritan proclivities.
As he had been pinched at home by conformity
laws, he had exiled himself that he might
secure elbow-room for his sentiments. But he loved
liberty so well that he never would unite with the New
England church. “No, no,” he always replied, when
solicited to do so, “I came from England because I
did not like the lord-bishops; and I cannot join you,
because I would not be under the lord brethren.”<a id="FNanchor_707" href="#Footnote_707" class="fnanchor">[707]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span></p>

<p>The Pilgrims went to work in Boston with a
will. Winter impended; a shelter must be provided
against the December sleet and the chilly
braw. But the task was hard; the <i lang="la">vis inertiæ</i> of
nature was to be overcome; and, without tools,
carts, or experienced joiners, all hands began to
realize that the carpenter was not inferior to the
priest or the poet.<a id="FNanchor_708" href="#Footnote_708" class="fnanchor">[708]</a></p>

<p>Some few grew discouraged. Of the seven hundred
whom Winthrop brought out, ninety went back
to England.<a id="FNanchor_709" href="#Footnote_709" class="fnanchor">[709]</a> But this gap was soon closed by fresh
arrivals. Quite a fleet lay moored in Massachusetts
bay; from Beacon hill seventeen ships might have
been counted, all of which came in 1630;<a id="FNanchor_710" href="#Footnote_710" class="fnanchor">[710]</a> and
these had disgorged some fifteen hundred earnest,
devout emigrants, “the best” that Britain could
produce.<a id="FNanchor_711" href="#Footnote_711" class="fnanchor">[711]</a></p>

<p>As a body, the Pilgrims were full of courage,
and their faith at all times bubbled over into song
or into prayer. “We here enjoy God and Jesus
Christ,” wrote Winthrop to his wife, whom sickness
had detained in England, “and is not that enough?
I thank God I like so well to be here as not to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span>
repent coming. I would not have altered my course,
though I had foreseen all these afflictions. I never
had more content of mind.”<a id="FNanchor_712" href="#Footnote_712" class="fnanchor">[712]</a></p>

<p>Before such a spirit—the right spirit—all obstacles
were certain to succumb. It was sure to</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent10">——“sway the future,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">While God stood behind the shadow,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Keeping watch above his own.”</div>
</div>
</div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>[293]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE CHARTER POLITY.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“And then we’ll raise, on these wild shores,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">A structure of wise government, and show</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">In our New World a glorious spectacle</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of social order.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent14"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hale’s</span> <cite>Ormond Grosvenor</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>The fundamental law of the colonies of Massachusetts
Bay was the charter, which bore the crown
seal. The old parchment contained a permit and a
fiat. It gave the corporation the right to enlarge or
decrease its numbers at its option, and to establish
the terms on which new members should be admitted
to its franchises. It decreed that the governor
and his assistants should be elected by the suffrages
of the Company at large. Every freeman, as the
members of the corporation were called, was entitled
to vote.<a id="FNanchor_713" href="#Footnote_713" class="fnanchor">[713]</a></p>

<p>On the 3d of August, 1630, at Charlestown, Winthrop
convened his assistants, and held the first
court under the transferred charter.<a id="FNanchor_714" href="#Footnote_714" class="fnanchor">[714]</a> It was the
earliest baby-cry of the provincial government.
Administrative functions were at once assumed.
Measures were initiated which looked to the support
of ministers; the question of wages was adjusted;
and an order was issued for the arrest of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span>
Thomas Morton,<a id="FNanchor_715" href="#Footnote_715" class="fnanchor">[715]</a> who, through the carelessness of
Allerton, the Plymouth agent, had returned to New
England, and once more “hied to his old nest” at
Merry-mount, only to renew his godless pranks.<a id="FNanchor_716" href="#Footnote_716" class="fnanchor">[716]</a></p>

<p>“Such was the first colonial legislation, and
such the first legislative body. No heralds, no
wigs, no cannon, no gilding, were necessary to impose
upon the senses or give majesty and authority
to law.”</p>

<p>Two months later,<a id="FNanchor_717" href="#Footnote_717" class="fnanchor">[717]</a> a general assembly of the
freemen of the colony was convened at Boston.<a id="FNanchor_718" href="#Footnote_718" class="fnanchor">[718]</a>
In the Assembly the charter vested the fundamental
legislative authority.<a id="FNanchor_719" href="#Footnote_719" class="fnanchor">[719]</a> It was the colonial Parliament.
At this session more than a hundred
planters were admitted to the franchises of the
corporation;<a id="FNanchor_720" href="#Footnote_720" class="fnanchor">[720]</a> and since this accession increased
the preëxisting inconvenience of gathering the
whole Company for purposes of legislation, the
freemen ceded to the governor and his assistants
the whole political power, reserving only the right
to supply vacancies.<a id="FNanchor_721" href="#Footnote_721" class="fnanchor">[721]</a> The tenure of office was
unlimited;<a id="FNanchor_722" href="#Footnote_722" class="fnanchor">[722]</a> perhaps it was tacitly understood to
be, as in the old English law, “during good behavior”—<i lang="la">quamdiu
se bene gesserint</i>. For a season the
government was an elective aristocracy. It was
oligarchical, like that of Venice.</p>

<p>This endured but little more than a twelvemonth.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>[295]</span>
In May, 1631, the freemen met again,
“after corn was set,” and revoked a part of the
authority of which they had been too lavish. The
government was curbed by a reservation to the
commons of the right to make such annual changes
as the majority should desire.<a id="FNanchor_723" href="#Footnote_723" class="fnanchor">[723]</a></p>

<p>“At this same time a law was established pregnant
with evil, and with good. ‘To the end that
the body of the commons may be preserved of honest
and good men’—so runs the old text—‘it is
ordered and agreed that, for the time to come, no
man shall be admitted to the freedom of this body
politic but such as are members of some of the
churches within the corporate limit.’ This rule
stood unchanged until after the Restoration. Thus
was the elective franchise narrowed. The polity
was a sort of theocracy; God himself, speaking
through the lips of his elect, was to govern his
people. An aristocracy was founded; but not on
wealth, or blood, or rank. The servant, the bondman,
might be a member of the church, and therefore
a freeman of the Company. Other states have
limited the possession of political rights to the opulent,
to freeholders, to the first-born. The colonists
of Massachusetts, scrupulously refusing to the clergy
the least shadow of political power, established
the reign of the visible church, a commonwealth of
the chosen people in covenant with God.”<a id="FNanchor_724" href="#Footnote_724" class="fnanchor">[724]</a></p>

<p>But we must not let the boldness and presumption<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>[296]</span>
of this act blind us to its inconsistency and its
evil tendency. If men might enjoy the franchise
only by uniting with the church, ambitious men,
wicked men, might become hypocrites, that they
might get power. When church-membership became
the road to political authority, there was danger
that audacious and unchastened interlopers
might usurp the government, as they did in England
under Whitgift, and Williams, and Laud.</p>

<p>This law was an inconsistency, because it was a
radical departure from the primal principle of Massachusetts
ecclesiasticism, the separation of church
and state, and the complete independence of the
individual churches.<a id="FNanchor_725" href="#Footnote_725" class="fnanchor">[725]</a> Now it was affirmed that the
state must unfold within the church.<a id="FNanchor_726" href="#Footnote_726" class="fnanchor">[726]</a> Indeed, a
kind of state church was developed.<a id="FNanchor_727" href="#Footnote_727" class="fnanchor">[727]</a> This is evident
from two facts. The clergy were to be supported,
not merely by the contributions of actual
church-members, but it was decreed that “all who
are instructed in the word of God must contribute
for those by whom they are taught in all good
things.”<a id="FNanchor_728" href="#Footnote_728" class="fnanchor">[728]</a> The government was empowered to curb
ecclesiastical errorists; and “if any church should
grow schismatical, rending itself from the communion
of other churches, or should walk incorrigibly
and obstinately in any corrupt way, contrary
to the word of God, in such case the civil<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297"></a>[297]</span>
magistrate was directed to put forth his coercive
power.”<a id="FNanchor_729" href="#Footnote_729" class="fnanchor">[729]</a></p>

<p>Thus individual religious independence, child of
the Protestant principle, was strangled. Our fathers
honestly erred. Purity of religious worship
was their goal; and in order to that, they desired
the unclogged enjoyment of what they esteemed the
divinely-appointed means of grace. Their model
was the Mosaic code. They did not remember
that God had superseded it by a new dispensation.</p>

<p>The Pilgrims were wise and devout men, and
in most respects they were a century in advance of
their generation; but as a body, they did not understand
the golden rule of toleration. Divorcing
church and state in theory, in practice they married
them.</p>

<p>“It is folly,” remarks an English scholar who
has himself rehearsed the story of the Pilgrims,
“for either British or American encomiasts to seek
to disguise this fact. It is on record. All may
read it. Impartial history is compelled to acknowledge
that very few, even of the foremost thinkers
and moralists of the seventeenth century, had any
just conception of that grand principle, the outgrowth
of the New Testament, which acknowledges
God as the sole Judge of human faith, and interferes
with opinions or creeds only when they run to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_298"></a>[298]</span>
seed in riot, and develope consequences inimical to
social virtue and political order.”<a id="FNanchor_730" href="#Footnote_730" class="fnanchor">[730]</a></p>

<p>But notwithstanding the fact that the Pilgrims
erected a theocracy, and by conferring upon the
civil arm jurisdiction in religion, opened the way
to unjust persecution, it is also true that they
“builded better than they knew;” for the principles
they professed eventually forced their children
to a broader platform. They secured the future.
They were the acorn; let the nineteenth century
be the oak.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“For we doubt not, through the ages</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">One increasing purpose runs;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And the thoughts of men are widened</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">With the process of the suns.”</div>
</div>
</div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_299"></a>[299]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.<br>
<span class="fs80">INCIDENTS.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“He cometh unto you with a tale which holdeth</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Children from play and old men from the chimney-corner.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent31"><span class="smcap">Sir Philip Sidney.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>The life of the Pilgrim Fathers in these first
years of their settlement was full of incident. They
could not assent to Solomon’s <i lang="la">dictum</i>, that “there
is nothing new under the sun.” Here they found
a new heaven and a new earth; all things were
strange. Their only acquaintance in the western
wilds was God; and they never wearied of investigation.
Their first move, after thanking God for
preservation and a safe voyage, was to explore.
They loved to “guess” out enigmas. They were
always analyzing the soil, and speculating on the
prospects of storms, and dickering with the Indians.
From the homeliest and most commonplace circumstances,
they did not disdain to gather wisdom or
“to point a moral and adorn a tale.” They had a
teachable spirit, and were ardent students in the
school of nature.</p>

<p>The unbroken forest especially possessed an
unfading charm in their eyes. They were fascinated
both by its freedom and its vastness; for in
England, whatever patches of wood existed were
enclosed in the parks of the exclusive nobles, and a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_300"></a>[300]</span>
bitter code of game-laws barred all entrance. But
while a source of pleasure, it was also often a source
of anxiety.</p>

<p>One pleasant afternoon Winthrop took his gun
and strolled into the woods for a short walk. He
lost his way, and night overtook him. Kindling a
fire, he prepared to “camp out.” He spent the
hours till dawn in walking up and down and “singing
psalms.” Next morning he reached home safely,
much to the delight of his neighbors, who had
passed the entire night in the forest, hallooing and
shooting off guns, in the hope that the lost governor
might hear them.<a id="FNanchor_731" href="#Footnote_731" class="fnanchor">[731]</a></p>

<p>On another occasion one of the settlers lost a
calf. Hearing the wolves howl in the night, he got
up and shot off his musket several times in rapid
succession, to frighten them away. The wind carried
the report to all the settlements; every one
was aroused; drums were beaten; messengers were
despatched to spread the alarm; every bush was
taken for an Indian. “But next morning the calf
was found unharmed, the wolves and the colonists
being well frightened. The former had disappeared,
and the latter went ‘merrily to breakfast,’
esteeming their alarm a good joke, and quaintly
rallying one another on the ‘great fear that had
come upon them, making all their bones to shake.’”<a id="FNanchor_732" href="#Footnote_732" class="fnanchor">[732]</a>
But their fright was not foolish; it was bred of caution
and a knowledge of their situation. They remembered
with old Ben Johnson, that</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_301"></a>[301]</span></p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent14">“A valiant man</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Ought not to undergo or tempt a danger,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">But worthily, and by selected ways;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">He undertakes by reason, not by chance.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>At Plymouth the Pilgrims had been longer in
America, and the first flush of initial excitement
had abated. The pulse-beat there was calmer, for
they were more learned in woodcraft than the later
comers. Yet even at Plymouth the jog-trot of events
was occasionally broken. There is a traditionary
anecdote, illustrative of the danger of one gentleman’s
commissioning another to do his wooing for
him, which doubtless created an unwonted stir in
the sedate old town at the time. It seems that
Miles Standish had buried his wife some time after
his arrival in New England; on which he thus communed
with himself:</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“‘’Tis not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">This I have said before; and again and again I repeat it;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Every hour in the day I think it, and feel it, and say it.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and dreary.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Sick at heart have I been, beyond the healing of friendship.’”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>So Standish resolved to wed again. He had
already taken a fancy to Miss Priscilla Mullins,
one of the sweetest of the Puritan maidens; and
he said:</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“‘Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of this maiden, Priscilla.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">She is alone in the world. Her father, and mother, and brother,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Died in the winter together. I saw her going and coming,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the bed of the dying;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to myself, that if ever</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">There were angels on earth, as there are angels in heaven,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_302"></a>[302]</span>
    <div class="verse indent0">Two have I seen and known; and the angel whose name is Priscilla</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Holds in my desolate life the place which the other abandoned.’”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">Therefore the captain resolved to woo her. But,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Being a coward in this, though valiant enough for the most part,”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">he decided to do it by proxy; so he selected John
Alden, his secretary—</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Having the dew of youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Whom St. Gregory saw, and exclaimed, ‘Not Angles, but angels.’</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>“John,” said he,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“‘Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of Plymouth;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Say that the blunt old captain, a man not of words, but of actions,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Offers his hand and heart—the hand and heart of a soldier.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in elegant language,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Such as you read in your books of the pleadings and wooings of lovers;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Such as you think best adapted to win the heart of a maiden.’”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>Now it happened that poor John Alden was
himself enamoured of the lovely Puritan maiden,
and he listened to this request aghast. But Standish,
unaware of this fact, urged the unwelcome
mission on his blushing scribe, and demanded his
acceptance of it in the name of friendship. Alden
determined to perform the mission, and to do it
faithfully; so he hied him through the forest to
Priscilla’s dwelling. Entering without ado, he at
once broached the subject, and flung forth a glowing
record of his master’s virtues. Priscilla heard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_303"></a>[303]</span>
him awhile in ominous silence, and then interrupted
him by this query:</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“‘If the great captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Why does he not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me?</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning.’”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>Alden tried to explain and smooth the matter;</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“But as he warmed and glowed in his simple and eloquent language,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Quite forgetful of self, and full of praise of his rival,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes overrunning with laughter,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Said in a tremulous voice, ‘Why don’t you speak for yourself, John?’”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>The bewildered but happy secretary at once
took the hint. Returning to Standish, he reported
his failure. Then he <em>did</em> “speak for himself,” and
to such purpose that he was soon married. There
were no horses in the wilderness; so after the nuptials,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Alden, the thoughtful, the careful, so happy, so proud of Priscilla,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Brought out a snow-white bull, obeying the hand of his master,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Led by a cord that was tied to an iron ring in its nostrils,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Covered with crimson cloth, and a cushion placed for a saddle.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">She should not walk, he said, through the dust and heat of the noonday;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Nay, she should ride like a queen, not plod along like a peasant.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Somewhat alarmed at first, but reassured by the others,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Placing her hand on the cushion, her foot in the hand of her husband,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Gayly, with joyous laugh, Priscilla mounted her palfrey.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Like a picture it seemed of the primitive, pastoral ages,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Fresh with the youth of the world, and recalling Rebecca and Isaac;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Old, and yet ever new, and simple and beautiful always,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_304"></a>[304]</span>
    <div class="verse indent0">Love immortal and young, in the endless succession of lovers.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">So through the Plymouth woods passed onward the bridal procession.”<a id="FNanchor_733" href="#Footnote_733" class="fnanchor">[733]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p>But sometimes events of ruder and less joyous
significance came to stir a ripple on the placid sea
of frontier life. Even among these Pilgrims there
were laws to be enforced and bad men to be curbed.
Thomas Morton was one. This irrepressible torment
was once more engaged at “Merry-Mount”
in selling guns and “fire-water” to the Indians;
nor did he hesitate to “shoot hail-shot into them,”
because they refused to bring him a canoe in which
to cross the river. He was apprehended on their
complaint, and because he “discredited the whites.”
His den was burned in the presence of the natives
whom he had maltreated; and he himself, after being
for a while “set in the bilboes,” was sent once
more a prisoner to England.<a id="FNanchor_734" href="#Footnote_734" class="fnanchor">[734]</a></p>

<p>This occurred at Boston. At Plymouth a still
more emphatic and sombre scene was enacted.
John Billington, always a pest, of whom Bradford
had said, “He is a knave, and so will live and die,”<a id="FNanchor_735" href="#Footnote_735" class="fnanchor">[735]</a>
was convicted of wilful murder. Conference was
held with the most judicious men of Massachusetts
Bay as to the disposition to be made of him. Winthrop
and the rest favored his execution, basing the
right to inflict that penalty, not so much on the English
common law as on the code of Moses: “Whoso<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_305"></a>[305]</span>
sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be
shed.”<a id="FNanchor_736" href="#Footnote_736" class="fnanchor">[736]</a> Under this decision Billington was hung;
and this was the first capital punishment ever inflicted
in New England.</p>

<p>These magisterial rigors did not suffice to quell
the evil-doers; for shortly afterwards Philip Radcliff
ventured to revile the “powers that be;” nor
did he scruple to asperse the colonial churches.
For this misdemeanor he was condemned to lose
his ears. This did not subdue him; so he was
whipped and banished. All which processes did
not serve to increase his affection for the Pilgrims.
Landing in England, he did them what mischief he
could.<a id="FNanchor_737" href="#Footnote_737" class="fnanchor">[737]</a></p>

<p>Then came another rogue. This was Sir Christopher
Gardiner, “one of those mysterious visitors
whose appearance in remote settlements so easily
stimulates the imaginations of men of more staid
habits and better mutual acquaintance.”<a id="FNanchor_738" href="#Footnote_738" class="fnanchor">[738]</a> It was
not known who he was, nor whence he came, nor
why. It has been conjectured that he was a spy
of Sir Ferdinand Gorges and other foes of Puritanism
in England.<a id="FNanchor_739" href="#Footnote_739" class="fnanchor">[739]</a> Bradford says, “He came into
these parts on pretence of forsaking the world, and
to live a private life in a godly course. He had
been a great traveller, was a Knight of the Holy
Sepulchre, and a relative of that Gardiner who was
so bitter a persecutor under “Bloody Mary.” Now<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306"></a>[306]</span>
he avowed himself penitent for his past ill life,
offered to join the churches here, and said he was
willing to apply himself to any employment.”<a id="FNanchor_740" href="#Footnote_740" class="fnanchor">[740]</a></p>

<p>Soon, however, he fell under suspicion at Massachusetts
Bay. He was suspected of living in
concubinage with “a comely young woman whom
he had brought over with him,” and whom he
called his cousin, “after the Italian manner.” Being
cited to answer these charges, he decamped.
Soon Winthrop received letters which showed that
this “knight” had “two wives living in London.”<a id="FNanchor_741" href="#Footnote_741" class="fnanchor">[741]</a>
An order was issued for his apprehension. Eventually
he took refuge at Plymouth. Here he chanced
to drop his diary; and in this was found a “memorial
showing what day he was reconciled to the
pope and the church of Rome, and in what university
he took his scapula and such and such degrees.”<a id="FNanchor_742" href="#Footnote_742" class="fnanchor">[742]</a>
So Bradford sent the unmasked Jesuit,
with the unfortunate diary, to Winthrop;<a id="FNanchor_743" href="#Footnote_743" class="fnanchor">[743]</a> who, in
his turn, presently sent him back “to the two wives
in Old England, that they might search him further.”<a id="FNanchor_744" href="#Footnote_744" class="fnanchor">[744]</a>
On reaching the island, he was not restrained
of his liberty, but roaming at large, soon
found out the enemies of the colonies; and he, with
Radcliff, actively engaged in intrigues to its prejudice.<a id="FNanchor_745" href="#Footnote_745" class="fnanchor">[745]</a></p>

<p>“So difficult was it,” observes Elliot, “to get
away from the wickedness of Satan, who, even in this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_307"></a>[307]</span>
virgin land, and among these godly Puritans, would
thrust himself in where his company was in no way
wanted. But now one more rascal was exported
and sent home, where, with his two wives and his
‘Italian manner,’ and his popery, he would not poison
Massachusetts.”<a id="FNanchor_746" href="#Footnote_746" class="fnanchor">[746]</a></p>

<p>Yet, spite of these isolated instances of riot,
insubordination, and disturbance, the Puritan settlements
were in the main models of industry, sobriety,
and good order. “I have read,” says Cotton
Mather, “a printed sermon which was preached
before ‘both Houses of Parliament, the lord-mayor
and aldermen of London, and the Westminster assembly
of divines,’ the greatest audience then in the
world; and in that sermon the preacher had this
passage: ‘I have lived in a country where, in seven
years, I never saw a beggar, nor heard an oath, nor
looked upon a drunkard.’ That Utopia was New
England.”<a id="FNanchor_747" href="#Footnote_747" class="fnanchor">[747]</a> Mather adds sadly: “But they who
go hence now must tell another story.”<a id="FNanchor_748" href="#Footnote_748" class="fnanchor">[748]</a></p>

<p>What was the secret of such prosperity? When
Demosthenes was asked what it was that so long
preserved Athens in a flourishing state, he replied,
“The orators are men of learning and wisdom; the
magistrates do justice; the citizens are quiet, and
the laws are kept among them all.”<a id="FNanchor_749" href="#Footnote_749" class="fnanchor">[749]</a> ’Twas a glorious
record for the immortal city, and the same
secret gave the settlements of the Pilgrim fathers
substantial peace and happy order.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308"></a>[308]</span></p>

<p>Winthrop relates that once “at Watertown there
was, in the view of divers witnesses, a great combat
betwixt a mouse and a snake; and, after a long
fight, the mouse prevailed and killed the snake.
The pastor of Boston, Mr. Wilson, a very sincere,
holy man, hearing of it, gave this interpretation:
the mouse was a poor contemptible people, brought
by God hither, who should overcome Satan here,
and dispossess him of his kingdom. Upon the same
occasion he added: ‘I dreamed before coming to
this country, that I was here and saw a church rise
out of the earth, which gradually expanded into a
colossal shape’—as pray God ours may.”<a id="FNanchor_750" href="#Footnote_750" class="fnanchor">[750]</a></p>

<p>Winthrop’s prayer seemed even then in the way
to exact fulfilment. Many earnest, devoted Pilgrims,
continued to pour into New England. In 1631,
Eliot, the famous apostle to the Indians, landed
at Salem.<a id="FNanchor_751" href="#Footnote_751" class="fnanchor">[751]</a> Full of love and full of hope, he soon
entered upon those labors which have immortalized
his name on earth, and enrolled it on the heavenly
records as a teacher and benefactor of his race.<a id="FNanchor_752" href="#Footnote_752" class="fnanchor">[752]</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_309"></a>[309]</span>
A little earlier, Roger Williams was wafted to these
shores, where, in his May of youth, he found a glorious
destiny awaited him.<a id="FNanchor_753" href="#Footnote_753" class="fnanchor">[753]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_310"></a>[310]</span></p>

<p>The Pilgrims made the best of every thing—saw
only the good of the land. Even the climate of
New England did not lack encomiasts. Wood had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_311"></a>[311]</span>
been “carefully hatched,” yet in England disease
sapped his life. While in America, he wrote:
“Scarce do I know what belongs to a day’s sickness.”<a id="FNanchor_754" href="#Footnote_754" class="fnanchor">[754]</a></p>

<p>An English churchman, who had not Wood’s
motive for liking New England, saw with different
eyes: “The transitions from heat to cold are short,
sudden, and paralyzing. We are sometimes frying,
and at others freezing; and as some men die at their
labor in the field of heat, so some in winter are frozen
to death by the cold.”<a id="FNanchor_755" href="#Footnote_755" class="fnanchor">[755]</a> No doubt.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">By thinking of the frosty Caucasus?”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>The Puritans saw New England as the refuge of
the godly, and looking at it through the mirage
of sentiment, its sky rivalled that of Italy in soft<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_312"></a>[312]</span>
beauty. To the churchman it seemed a rugged wilderness
in very deed. It was a difference of standpoint.</p>

<p>But mild or severe, the Pilgrims loved this
adopted mother on whose breast they lay, and their
settlements began to increase in number. A brood
of eight little towns, or <em>townlets</em>, now nestled under
the wings of the Massachusetts charter;<a id="FNanchor_756" href="#Footnote_756" class="fnanchor">[756]</a> while
Plymouth already began to think of equipping a
new colony,<a id="FNanchor_757" href="#Footnote_757" class="fnanchor">[757]</a> and annexing the Connecticut.</p>

<p>The western wilds were no longer tenantless, or
what is equivalent to that, held only by prowling
barbarians. The French, who had been hovering
over the coast ever since their rout from L’Acadie,
in 1613, by Sir Samuel Argall, had recently acquired
Canada by purchase.<a id="FNanchor_758" href="#Footnote_758" class="fnanchor">[758]</a> The
<ins class="corr" id="tn-312" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'wise statemanship'">
wise statesmanship</ins> of Richelieu had bought from Charles I.—busy in a
fatal attempt to enforce ceremonialism,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Rending the book in struggles for the binding,”—</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">one of the finest provinces in the known world for
fishing, masts, harbors.<a id="FNanchor_759" href="#Footnote_759" class="fnanchor">[759]</a> Already the Latin provinces
had begun to string a chain of citadels westward
along the banks of the St. Lawrence and the
borders of the lakes to the valley of the Mississippi,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">——“toppling round the dreary west</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">A looming bastion fringed with fire.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_313"></a>[313]</span></p>

<p>The Spaniard was in Florida.<a id="FNanchor_760" href="#Footnote_760" class="fnanchor">[760]</a> The Dutchman
smoked his pipe on the banks of the Hudson.<a id="FNanchor_761" href="#Footnote_761" class="fnanchor">[761]</a> English
adventurers held Virginia.<a id="FNanchor_762" href="#Footnote_762" class="fnanchor">[762]</a> The Pilgrims had
clutched New England. Labor was vocal on every
hill-side; the whole continent began to echo to the
civilizing stroke of the woodman’s axe.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_314"></a>[314]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE ADVANCE OF CIVILIZATION.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent10">“So work the honey-bees—</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Creatures that, by a rule of nature, teach</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The art of order to a peopled kingdom.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">They have a head and officers of sorts,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Where some, like magistrates, correct at home;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Make boot upon the summer’s velvet buds;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Which pillage they with merry march bring home</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">To the tent royal of their emperor,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Who, busied in his tent, surveys</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The singing mason building roofs of gold;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The civil citizens kneading up the honey;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The poor mechanic porters crowding in</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Delivering o’er to executors pale</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The lazy, yawning drone.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent24"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare’s</span> <cite>Henry V</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>From the year 1630—before that, but more perceptibly
after—the advancing march of civilization
carried all before it in New England. There were,
indeed, occasional oscillations in its career of triumph;
but always, when its genius seemed to balk,
it ended by bearing off a trophy.</p>

<p>At Plymouth, all the social and religious forces
had “settled down into fixed ways.” Justice was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_315"></a>[315]</span>
administered, order was preserved, education was
provided for.<a id="FNanchor_763" href="#Footnote_763" class="fnanchor">[763]</a> The old town began to prosper.
The busy hum of men and the laughter of successful
trade echoed through the streets; and Bradford
wrote, “Though the partners have been plunged
into great engagements and oppressed with unjust
debts, yet the Lord has prospered our traffic so that
our labor is not for naught. The people of this
plantation begin to grow in their outward estates,
by reason of the flowing of many into the province,
especially into the settlements on Massachusetts
Bay; by which means corn and cattle have risen to
a great price, whereby some are much enriched,
while commodities grow plentiful.”<a id="FNanchor_764" href="#Footnote_764" class="fnanchor">[764]</a></p>

<p>As property and a sense of security increased,
the Plymouth Pilgrims began to show a disposition
to disperse, for the convenience of better pasturage
and ampler farm-room. So the three hundred inhabitants,
esteeming themselves crowded, separated,
and a new church and hamlet were planted on
the north shore of the shallow harbor.<a id="FNanchor_765" href="#Footnote_765" class="fnanchor">[765]</a> “The
town in which all had lived very compactly till
now,” observes the old Plymouth governor somewhat
ruefully, “was left very thin by this move.”
In Bradford’s eyes, it was the beginning of a movement
pregnant with evil.<a id="FNanchor_766" href="#Footnote_766" class="fnanchor">[766]</a> He thought, somewhat
plausibly, that strength and safety lay in the close
union of the scattered colonists. Yet that idea was
fatal to colonization, and bolder theorists determined<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_316"></a>[316]</span>
to educate communities by responsibility,
the best of school-masters. They said,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>For several years the church at Plymouth had
enjoyed the ministrations of an ordained clergyman.
That Separatist, Mr. Smith, who had crossed
the water with Higginson and Skelton in 1629,
perceiving that he was looked upon with some suspicion
by his brother Pilgrims on account of his
“come-outism,” an aroma which they were not then
prepared to exhale, went immediately to Nantasket,
sojourning there “with some stragglers” for
several months.<a id="FNanchor_767" href="#Footnote_767" class="fnanchor">[767]</a> One day a Plymouth boat happened
to touch at that port, whereupon Mr. Smith
“earnestly besought the crew to give him and his,
with such things as could be readily carried, passage
to Plymouth, as he had heard that there was
likelihood that he might there find house-room until
he could determine where to settle; for he said he
was weary of the uncouth place in which he found
himself, where his house was so poor that neither
himself nor his goods could keep dry.”<a id="FNanchor_768" href="#Footnote_768" class="fnanchor">[768]</a></p>

<p>He was brought to Plymouth, where he “exercised
his gifts”—which were rather “low”<a id="FNanchor_769" href="#Footnote_769" class="fnanchor">[769]</a>—being
“kindly entertained and sheltered,” and finally
“chosen into the ministry;”<a id="FNanchor_770" href="#Footnote_770" class="fnanchor">[770]</a> so that Brewster
once again found respite. A little later, Smith’s
labors and gifts were supplemented by Roger Williams—why<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_317"></a>[317]</span>
and how long we shall in due time discover.</p>

<p>In 1632, an event of no little interest occurred.
Governor Winthrop went to Plymouth to exchange
fraternal greetings with Governor Bradford, and
mutual inquiries of “What cheer?” were passed.
Winthrop has related the incident. Let us open
his record: “The governor of Massachusetts Bay,
with Mr. Wilson, pastor of Boston, and some others,
went aboard the ‘Lion’ on the 25th of October,
and thence Captain Pierce carried then to Wessagusset,
where is now a prosperous settlement of
a graver sort than the old ones. The next morning
the governor and his company went on foot to
Plymouth, and came thither within the evening.
The governor of Plymouth, Mr. William Bradford,
a very discreet and grave man, with Elder Brewster
and some others, came forth and met them
without the town, and conducted them to the governor’s
house, where they were very kindly entertained,
and feasted every day at several houses.</p>

<p>“On the Lord’s Day there was a sacrament, of
which they partook; and in the afternoon Mr. Roger
Williams, according to the Plymouth custom, propounded
a question, to which the pastor, Mr. Ralph
Smith, spoke briefly; then Mr. Williams prophesied;<a id="FNanchor_771" href="#Footnote_771" class="fnanchor">[771]</a>
and after, the governor of Plymouth spoke
to the question; after him, the elder; then some
two or three more of the congregation. Then the
elder desired the governor of Massachusetts Bay<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_318"></a>[318]</span>
and Mr. Wilson to speak to it, which they did.
When this was done, Mr. Fuller, their surgeon, put
the congregation in mind of their duty of contribution;
whereupon the governors and all the rest
went down to the deacon’s seat, and put into the
box, and then returned.</p>

<p>“On Wednesday, the 31st of October, at about
five o’clock in the morning, the governor and his
company came out of Plymouth; whose governor,
pastor, elder, and others, accompanied them nearly
half a mile in the dark. Lieutenant Holmes, one
of their chiefest men, with two companions and
Governor Bradford’s mare, came along with them
to a great swamp, about ten miles. When they
came to the great river,<a id="FNanchor_772" href="#Footnote_772" class="fnanchor">[772]</a> they were carried over
one by one by Luddam, their guide, as they had
been when they came, the stream being very strong,
and up to the crotch; so the governor called that
passage ‘Luddam’s Ford.’ Thence they came to
a place called ‘Hue’s Cross.’ The governor being
displeased at the name, because such things
might hereafter give the papists occasion to say
that their religion was first planted in these parts,
changed the name, and called it ‘Hue’s Folly.’ So
they came that evening to Wessagussett, where
they were bountifully entertained, as before; and
the next day all came safe to Boston.”<a id="FNanchor_773" href="#Footnote_773" class="fnanchor">[773]</a></p>

<p>This was the first interchange of gubernatorial
civilities ever known in America. It was certainly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_319"></a>[319]</span>
unique. One governor lent the other his mare to
ride home upon, gave him a guide on whose shoulders
he could be ferried across a rapid stream, and
entertained his guest by beseeching him to “prophesy”
on the Sabbath, and by gently reminding him
that the contribution-box was empty.</p>

<p>Such was the homely, hearty, frank hospitality
of the Pilgrim fathers over two hundred years ago.
Such were the manners and customs of New England
when Brewster “prophesied” and when Winthrop
and Bradford governed. Looking back across
two centuries, we smile; but perhaps, with all its
super-refinement, modern hospitality is no whit in
advance of that which contented Winthrop, and of
which it may be said,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“There was no winter in’t; an autumn ’twas,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">That grew the more by reaping.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>In this same year of Winthrop’s visit to Plymouth,
the Pilgrims had their first boundary quarrel
with the French. The extent of Acadia to the west
was long a subject of dispute.<a id="FNanchor_774" href="#Footnote_774" class="fnanchor">[774]</a> The lands which
bordered on the rival boundaries became a “debatable”
ground. Bradford and his coadjutors had
erected a trading station on the Penobscot. This
was now assaulted, and “despoiled of five hundred
pounds worth of beaver-skins, besides a store of
coats, rugs, blankets, biscuits;” and insult was
added to injury; for the cavalier Frenchmen bade
the tenants of the plundered post tell the English<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_320"></a>[320]</span>
that “some gentlemen of the Isle of Rhé had been
there to leave their compliments.”<a id="FNanchor_775" href="#Footnote_775" class="fnanchor">[775]</a></p>

<p>This taunt was not instantly responded to. Indeed,
it was put out at interest, and remained unsettled
until the next century, when these “religious
English” gave the intruders indefinite leave of absence
from Canada, and settled the boundary question
by annexing the whole territory.</p>

<p>As an offset to their loss on the eastern rivers,
the Plymouth Pilgrims began to push their enterprise
towards the west. “Rumor, with its thousand
tongues,” had frequently hymned the praises of the
Eldorado of Connecticut. The phlegmatic Dutchman,
so cold on other themes, kindled on this, and
actually took his pipe out of his mouth, that he
might speak more freely. The taciturn Indian
melted into profuse and graphic eloquence when
he painted the beauty and fertility of these western
bottom-lands.<a id="FNanchor_776" href="#Footnote_776" class="fnanchor">[776]</a></p>

<p>These glowing reports at length won the Pilgrims,
tied at first by the necessity of overcoming a
contiguous wilderness, to scout in that region. Parties
visited the banks of the “Fresh river,” as the
Dutch styled it,<a id="FNanchor_777" href="#Footnote_777" class="fnanchor">[777]</a> or the <em>Connecticut</em>, as it soon came
to be called, “not without profit,” finding it “a fine
place both for planting and for trade.”<a id="FNanchor_778" href="#Footnote_778" class="fnanchor">[778]</a></p>

<p>In 1633, Bradford and Winslow, who had himself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_321"></a>[321]</span>
bathed in the waters of the silvery river, went
up to Boston to solicit from Winthrop a united
effort to colonize the Connecticut valley. In the
first spring after Winthrop’s landing, a Connecticut
sachem, expelled from his hunting-grounds by the
prowess of the Pequods, a fierce and numerous
tribe, as powerful in New England as the “Six Nations”
were in New York,<a id="FNanchor_779" href="#Footnote_779" class="fnanchor">[779]</a> had come across the
country to offer the pale-faces a settlement on the
banks of the beautiful river, together with the alliance
of his warriors and a yearly tribute of corn
and beaver.<a id="FNanchor_780" href="#Footnote_780" class="fnanchor">[780]</a> The Indian negotiator was well
received, but Winthrop declined to accede to his
request, since, “on account of their so recent arrival,
they were not fit to undertake it.”<a id="FNanchor_781" href="#Footnote_781" class="fnanchor">[781]</a> The Plymouth
diplomats received the same answer; and returning
home, they resolved to push into the Connecticut
forests unassisted.<a id="FNanchor_782" href="#Footnote_782" class="fnanchor">[782]</a></p>

<p>Meantime the Dutch, hearing of this purpose
and preparation, decided to preoccupy the land,
and so, by antedating the Pilgrim settlement, claim
the soil by priority.<a id="FNanchor_783" href="#Footnote_783" class="fnanchor">[783]</a> They did indeed purchase,
from a Pequod chief, a spot of land where Hartford
now stands, and erecting a “slight fort” in June,
1633, planted cannon, and forbade any Englishman
to pass.<a id="FNanchor_784" href="#Footnote_784" class="fnanchor">[784]</a></p>

<p>Undeterred by threats, the Pilgrims perfected<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_322"></a>[322]</span>
their arrangements, and in October sailed by the
“Good Hope” of the Dutch, after a parley and
mutual threats<a id="FNanchor_785" href="#Footnote_785" class="fnanchor">[785]</a>—in which they were struck only
by a few Dutch oaths—and planted at Windsor the
first English colony in Connecticut.<a id="FNanchor_786" href="#Footnote_786" class="fnanchor">[786]</a> A twelvemonth
later, a company of seventy Dutchmen quitted
New Amsterdam with the avowed purpose of
expelling the Pilgrim pioneers. But after observing
the spirit and preparation of the little garrison,
they concluded to end their war-trail in a reconciliation,
and retired without violence.<a id="FNanchor_787" href="#Footnote_787" class="fnanchor">[787]</a></p>

<p>In the midst of their hardy enterprise, while the
door of civilization was just ajar in Connecticut, an
infectious fever came to scourge the Pilgrims. “It
pleased the Lord to visit those at Plymouth,” says
Bradford, “with a severe sickness this year, of
which many fell sick, and upwards of twenty, men,
women, and children, died; among the rest, several
of those who had recently come over from Leyden;
and at the last, Samuel Fuller, their surgeon and
physician. Before his death, he had helped many
and comforted all; as in his profession, so otherwise,
being a deacon in the church and a godly
man, forward to do good, he was much missed.
All were much lamented, and the sadness caused
the people to humble themselves and seek God;
and towards winter it seemed good to him to stay
the sickness.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_323"></a>[323]</span></p>

<p>“This disease swept away many of the Indians
in that vicinage; and the spring before, especially
all the month of May, there was such a quantity of
strange flies, like wasps in size, or bumblebees, coming
out of holes in the ground, spreading through
the woods, and eating up every green thing, as
caused the forest to ring with their hum ready to
deafen the hearers.<a id="FNanchor_788" href="#Footnote_788" class="fnanchor">[788]</a> They have not been heard or
seen since; but the Indians then said their presence
foretokened sickness, which indeed came in
June, July, August, and the chief heat of summer.”<a id="FNanchor_789" href="#Footnote_789" class="fnanchor">[789]</a></p>

<p>At this period in colonial history, the tide of emigration
seemed to flow at one time and to ebb at
another. It was governed by the increase or the
slack of persecution in England. In 1630, the date
of the alienation of the provincial government, it
was at the flood; in the succeeding year it actually
receded. “Climate and the sufferings of the settlers
were against free emigration; and besides,
Morton, Radcliff, and Gardiner, were busy in the
island against the colonists. In 1631, only ninety
persons came over. But in 1632, the sluggish current
quickened, and again set westward. Spite of
threats, the Pilgrims had not been molested, and
as Laud’s pesterings grew in virulence, many ships
then prepared to start, and some of Britain’s noblest
sons were about to desert her; among them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_324"></a>[324]</span>
Lord Say, Lord Rich, the ‘good Lord Brooke,’
Hazlerigge, Pym, Hampden, and Oliver Cromwell.
But on the 31st of February, 1633, the king, in
council, issued an order to stay the flotilla.”<a id="FNanchor_790" href="#Footnote_790" class="fnanchor">[790]</a></p>

<p>’Tis a high fact, and shows upon what slight
hinges the weightiest events turn. The very foremost
chiefs of the maturing revolution were at this
time not only anxious to emigrate, but had actually
embarked for America. Well would it have been
for Charles, had he said to the disaffected Puritans,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Stand not upon the order of your going,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">But go at once.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>Had some good genius nudged the elbow of
the king, on that critical morning when his breathless
messenger was hastening to stay the emigrant
flotilla, urged him to say Yes, to its sailing,
and foretold the future, how eagerly the fated monarch
would have caught the cue, and torn that
parchment, so pregnant with mischief, which forbade
their departure; and offered the immortal
junto jewels of gold and precious stones as an
inducement to be gone, and cried, “Egypt is glad,”
when they set out.</p>

<p>But God made the wrath of man praise him.
He struck the besotted court with judicial blindness.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_325"></a>[325]</span>
Neither Charles, nor Strafford, nor Laud
could read the hand-writing on the wall. They
could not foresee events which were ere long to</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent10">“Fright the isle</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">From her propriety.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>These “fanatics” were not needed in New England.
Their fellows had already commenced to
build, at Plymouth and at Massachusetts Bay, for
God and liberty. So they were detained to organize
“resistance to tyrants” in the senate-house, and
to give the arbitrary principle its death-blow at
Naseby and Long Marston Moor.</p>

<p>But though the court, frightened at the prodigious
extent of an emigration which threatened to
depopulate the kingdom, had fulminated a decree
against colonization, the departure of Pilgrims was
only hindered, not stayed. They continued to cross
the water until, in 1640, this pattering emigration
had rained four thousand families and upwards of
twenty thousand settlers into New England.<a id="FNanchor_791" href="#Footnote_791" class="fnanchor">[791]</a> Then
for a few glorious years the exodus ceased. The
prospect of reform in England caused men to remain
at home, “in the hope of seeing a new world”
without passing the Atlantic.</p>

<p>In the summer of this same year which witnessed
the detention of Cromwell, and Pym, and
Hampden, and Hazlerigge, and Lord Brooke, a
ship was freighted for America; and with two hundred
other passengers, it bore to these shores three
men who became as famous on this side the water<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_326"></a>[326]</span>
as the revolutionists did on the other—John Haynes,
John Cotton, and Thomas Hooker.<a id="FNanchor_792" href="#Footnote_792" class="fnanchor">[792]</a> On board the
“Griffin” at this same time was another eminent
minister, Mr. Stone; “and this glorious triumvirate
coming together,” remarks Cotton Mather, “made
the poor people in the wilderness say that God had
supplied them with what would in some sort answer
their three great necessities; <em>Cotton</em> for their clothing,
<em>Hooker</em> for their fishing, and <em>Stone</em> for their
building.”<a id="FNanchor_793" href="#Footnote_793" class="fnanchor">[793]</a></p>

<p>Haynes, afterwards governor <ins class="corr" id="tn-326" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'both of Massachusets'">
both of Massachusetts</ins> and Connecticut, was “a man of very large
estate, and still larger affections; of a ‘heavenly’
mind and a spotless life; of rare sagacity and accurate
but unassuming judgment; by nature tolerant;
ever a friend to freedom, ever conciliating peace.
He was an able legislator, and dear to the Pilgrims
by his benevolence and his disinterested conduct.”<a id="FNanchor_794" href="#Footnote_794" class="fnanchor">[794]</a></p>

<p>Cotton and Hooker speedily became the most
revered spiritual teachers of two commonwealths;
Cotton shaped and toned Massachusetts ecclesiasticism;
Hooker was the Moses of Connecticut.
Both were well born; both had been clergymen of
the English church; both had been silenced for
non-conformity; both were consummate scholars—in
Mather’s strong phrase, <em>walking libraries</em>; both
had won wide fame at home, which, like Joseph’s
bough, “ran over the wall” of the Atlantic ocean,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_327"></a>[327]</span>
and made their names familiar in every cabin on
the eastern coast.</p>

<p>“Cotton was acute and subtile. The son of a
Puritan lawyer, he had been eminent at Cambridge
as a student. He was quick in the nice perception
of distinctions, and pliant in dialectics; in manner
persuasive rather than commanding; skilled in the
fathers and the schoolmen, but finding all their wisdom
compactly stored in Calvin; deeply devout by
nature as well as habit from childhood; hating heresy
and still precipitately eager to prevent evil
actions by suppressing ill opinions, yet verging in
opinion towards progress in civil and religious freedom.
He was the avowed foe of democracy, which
he feared as the blind despotism of animal instincts
in the multitude. Yet he opposed hereditary power
in all its forms; desiring a government of moral
opinion, according to the laws of moral equity, and
‘claiming the ultimate resolution for the whole body
of the people.’”<a id="FNanchor_795" href="#Footnote_795" class="fnanchor">[795]</a></p>

<p>Cotton was, if not the originator, then the main
mover of the theocratical idea. “When he came,”
says Mather, “there were divers churches in America,
but the country was in a perplexed and divided
state; points of church order he settled with exactness;
and inasmuch as no little of an Athenian
democracy was in the mould of the colonial government,
by the royal charter which was then acted
upon, he effectually recommended that none should
be electors or elected except such as were visible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_328"></a>[328]</span>
subjects of Christ personally confederated in the
church. In this way, and in others, he propounded
an endeavor after a theocracy, as near as might be
to that which was the glory of Israel.”<a id="FNanchor_796" href="#Footnote_796" class="fnanchor">[796]</a></p>

<p>Cotton was a man of much personal humility.
“He learned the lesson of Gregory, ‘It is better,
many times, to fly from an injury by silence, than to
overcome it by replying;’ and he used that practice
of Grynæus, ‘To revenge wrongs by Christian taciturnity.’
On one occasion he had modestly replied
to one that would much talk and croak of his insight
into the revelations: ‘Brother, I must confess
myself to want <em>light</em> in these mysteries.’ The
man went home and sent Cotton a <em>pound of candles</em>.”<a id="FNanchor_797" href="#Footnote_797" class="fnanchor">[797]</a></p>

<p>He was iron in his doctrines, but personally he
had the <i lang="la">nimia humilitas</i> which Luther sometimes
lamented in Staupitz; so much so, indeed, that
Mather marvels that “the hardest flints should not
have been broken on such a soft bag of cotton.”<a id="FNanchor_798" href="#Footnote_798" class="fnanchor">[798]</a></p>

<p>Cotton, on landing, in 1633, at once assumed
that leading position to which his intellect entitled
him, and his pulpit at Boston speedily became a
leading power in Massachusetts.</p>

<p>Hooker was settled, during his sojourn in the
Bay plantation, at Cambridge.<a id="FNanchor_799" href="#Footnote_799" class="fnanchor">[799]</a> He was a man “of
vast endowments, a strong will, and an energetic
mind. Ingenuous in temper, he was open in his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_329"></a>[329]</span>
professions. He had been trained to benevolence
by the discipline of affliction, and to tolerance
by his refuge from home persecution in Holland.
He was choleric in temper, yet gentle in his affections;
firm in faith, yet readily yielding to the
power of reason; the peer of the reformers, without
their harshness; the devoted apostle to the humble
and the poor, severe only to the proud, mild in his
soothings of a wounded spirit, glowing with the raptures
of devotion, and kindling with the messages
of redeeming love. His eye, voice, gesture, and
whole frame, were animated with the living vigor of
heart-felt religion; he was public-spirited and lavishly
charitable; and ‘though persecution and banishment
had awaited him as one wave follows another,’
he was ever serenely blessed with ‘a glorious
peace of soul’—fixed in his trust in Providence,
and in his adhesion to the cause of advancing civilization,
which he cherished always, even while it
remained to him a mystery.</p>

<p>“This was he whom, for his abilities and services,
his contemporaries placed ‘in the first rank’
of men; praising him as the one rich pearl with
which ‘Europe more than repaid America for the
treasures from her coast.’ The people to whom
Hooker had ministered in England had preceded
him in exile; as he landed, they crowded about him
with their cheery welcome. ‘Now I live,’ exclaimed
he, as with open arms he embraced his flock, ‘now
I live if ye stand fast in the Lord.’”<a id="FNanchor_800" href="#Footnote_800" class="fnanchor">[800]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_330"></a>[330]</span></p>

<p>Hooker was an apostle of great boldness and of
singular charity. He had fine tact and a habit of
discrimination. He had a saying that “some were
to be saved by compassion, others, by fear, being
pulled out of the fire.” He knew how to reach the
heart; once, when a settlement twenty leagues from
his habitation was suffering from hunger, he sent a
ship-load of corn to relieve the sufferers, thus demonstrating
his Christianity by what Chrysostom
calls “unanswerable syllogisms.”<a id="FNanchor_801" href="#Footnote_801" class="fnanchor">[801]</a></p>

<p>Whitfield once said of him: “Hooker is one in
whom the utmost learning and wisdom are tempered
by the finest zeal, holiness, and watchfulness; for,
though naturally a man of choleric temper, and
possessing a mighty vigor and fervor of spirit,
which as occasion served was wondrous useful to
him, yet he had as much government of his choler
as a man has over a mastiff dog in a chain; he could
let out his dog or pull him in, as he pleased.”<a id="FNanchor_802" href="#Footnote_802" class="fnanchor">[802]</a></p>

<p>Mather records that some one once, seeing Hooker’s
heroism and persistent goodness, said: “He is
a man who, while doing his Master’s work, would
put a king in his pocket.”<a id="FNanchor_803" href="#Footnote_803" class="fnanchor">[803]</a></p>

<p>Of this there was an instance. It chanced once
that on a fast-day kept throughout England, the
judges on their circuit stopped over at Chelmsford,
where Hooker was to preach. Here, before a vast
audience, and in the presence of the judges, he
freely inveighed against the sins of England, and
foretold the plagues that would result. Charles had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_331"></a>[331]</span>
recently married a papist princess. The undaunted
apostle in his prayer besought God to set in the
heart of the king what His own mouth had spoken
by his prophet Malachi, as he distinctly quoted it:
“An abomination is committed; Judah hath married
the daughter of a strange god; the Lord will
cut off the man that doeth this.” Though the judges
turned to and noted the passage thus cited, Hooker
came to no trouble; but it was not long before England
did.<a id="FNanchor_804" href="#Footnote_804" class="fnanchor">[804]</a></p>

<p>Hooker and Cotton have been well called the
Luther and Melancthon of New England; each became
the oracle of his plantation.</p>

<p>And now “the prophets in exile began to see the
true forms of the house.” They already held the soil
by a twofold title: the royal charter had granted it
to the patentees called the “Massachusetts Company,”
“to be held by them, their heirs and assigns,
in free and common soccage; paying, in lieu of all
services, one fifth of the gold and silver that should
be found.”<a id="FNanchor_805" href="#Footnote_805" class="fnanchor">[805]</a> And this vestment the conscientious
Pilgrims had been careful to supplement by actual
purchase from the aborigines.<a id="FNanchor_806" href="#Footnote_806" class="fnanchor">[806]</a></p>

<p>Every day the old trading corporation assumed
new prerogatives, verging more and more towards
a representative democracy. Winthrop was timid,
and doubted the legality of this popular movement.
Cotton was alarmed; and on one election day he
essayed to check the democratic tendency by preaching<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_332"></a>[332]</span>
to the assembled freemen against rotation in
office, arguing that an honest magistrate held his
position as a proprietor holds his freehold. But the
voters were deaf to the fears of the government, and
careless, for once, of the decision of the pulpit.
Dudley succeeded Winthrop in the gubernatorial
chair;<a id="FNanchor_807" href="#Footnote_807" class="fnanchor">[807]</a> legislation was intrusted to representatives
chosen by the several towns of Massachusetts Bay;<a id="FNanchor_808" href="#Footnote_808" class="fnanchor">[808]</a>
it was decreed that the freemen at large should
be convened only for the election of magistrates.<a id="FNanchor_809" href="#Footnote_809" class="fnanchor">[809]</a>
Thus, in 1634, the electors exercised their “absolute
power,” and “established a reformation of such
things as they judged to be amiss in the model of
government.”<a id="FNanchor_810" href="#Footnote_810" class="fnanchor">[810]</a></p>

<p>Now the colonial authority was divided between
two branches. The representatives were the legislative,
the magistrates were the executive arm.
Both sat together in the outset, forming what was
called “The General Court.” Finally, the magistrates
grew discontented; as the towns increased,
so did the representatives; and they found themselves
outvoted; so they pressed for separate houses,
each with a veto on the other. It was granted. The
<em>deputies</em> and the <em>council</em> were inaugurated;<a id="FNanchor_811" href="#Footnote_811" class="fnanchor">[811]</a> and these,
under the Republic, have become the Representatives
and the Senate.</p>

<p>Next, a law was framed which forbade arbitrary
taxation; it was decreed that “the deputies alone<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_333"></a>[333]</span>
were competent to grant land or raise money.”<a id="FNanchor_812" href="#Footnote_812" class="fnanchor">[812]</a>
Already “the state was filled with the bane of village
politicians; ‘the freemen of every town in the
Bay were busy in inquiring into their liberties.’
With the important exception of universal suffrage,
in our age so happily in process of complete establishment,
representative democracy was as perfect
two centuries ago as it is to-day. Even the magistrates
who acted as judges held their office by annual
popular election. ‘Elections cannot be safe
there long,’ sneered an English lawyer, Leckford,
with a shrug. The same prediction has been made
these two hundred years. The public mind, in perpetual
agitation, is still easily shaken, even by slight
and transient impulses; but after all its vibrations,
it follows the laws of the moral world and safely
recovers its balance.”<a id="FNanchor_813" href="#Footnote_813" class="fnanchor">[813]</a></p>

<p>The test of citizenship was indeed exclusive.
But the conception which based the ballot on goodness
of the highest type, goodness of such purity
and force that nothing save faith in Christ could
create it—which conferred political power on personal
character, was noble, even while impracticable.
But God commissioned an American reformer
to plant the seed of a larger growth by a vehement
and potent protest.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_334"></a>[334]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.<br>
<span class="fs80">ROGER WILLIAMS.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“I venerate the man whose heart is warm,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Coincident, exhibit lucid proof</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">That he is honest in the sacred cause.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent25"><span class="smcap">Cowper’s</span> <cite>Task</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>The Pilgrim Fathers were enamoured of the Mosaic
code. They esteemed it to be a diamond without
a flaw. Their constant, persistent effort was to
naturalize the Jewish ritual in New England. For
this their statesmen planned and their divines dogmatized.
They did not remember that the judicial
government which fitted the world in its infancy
had been outgrown, and now sat awkwardly upon
Christendom twenty-one years of age. They did
not remember that Christ had “rung out” the old
dispensation and “rung in” a grander and broader
one.</p>

<p>Of course, in standing under the Mosaic code
they were perfectly sincere; and to their sincerity
they wedded a Titanic earnestness. They regarded
toleration as a snare and a curse. It was either the
badge of indifference or the corslet of Atheism;
therefore a vice entitled to no terms. The advocates
of toleration in the seventeenth century may
be counted on the fingers of one’s two hands.
The most advanced thinkers of that epoch scarcely<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_335"></a>[335]</span>
ventured, even in their most generous moments, to
hint at a toleration of all creeds—each man responsible
alone to God. The Romanist denied it
amid the crackling flames of his <i lang="pt">auto da fé</i>, and
held with the Sorbonne and with Bossuét, that the
stake is bound to extirpate heresy.<a id="FNanchor_814" href="#Footnote_814" class="fnanchor">[814]</a> The Protestant
urged exceptions when he asked for toleration;
and, with Cartwright, forsook those who came
under his ban, “that they might not corrupt and
infect others.”<a id="FNanchor_815" href="#Footnote_815" class="fnanchor">[815]</a></p>

<p>Tindale appealed not to the Pope, or to councils,
or to the king, but to the Bible. So did Latimer;
so did the Ridleys; so did Cranmer; so did Bradford:
all of whom were blessed martyrs: yet none
of these believed in full toleration; they had not yet
reached it. They accepted what was behind them;
they had a shadowy conception of what was in
advance; but they feared, and were tolerant only
up to their own position, while they cried “halt!”
to a farther progress.</p>

<p>This European wave of sentiment swept in strong
eddies to America; and in New England Cotton
wrote: “It was toleration that made the world anti-Christian;
and the church never took harm by the
punishment of heretics.”<a id="FNanchor_816" href="#Footnote_816" class="fnanchor">[816]</a> The cobbler of Agawam<a id="FNanchor_817" href="#Footnote_817" class="fnanchor">[817]</a>
responded: “Yes: to authorize an untruth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_336"></a>[336]</span>
by a toleration of state, is to build a sconce against
the walls of heaven, to batter God out of his
chair.”<a id="FNanchor_818" href="#Footnote_818" class="fnanchor">[818]</a></p>

<p>Therefore, the Pilgrim Fathers, backed by the
public opinion of Christendom, tabooed toleration,
and gave it no place under the theocracy.
When Roger Williams landed with his wife at Boston,
in 1631, this was the sentiment and so stood
the law.</p>

<p>He was a Welchman—for he had been cradled
in the crags of Carmarthen—some thirty years of
age, ripe for great acts, and though sometime a
minister of the English church, he had thrown up
his living because he could not, in Milton’s phrase,
“subscribe him slave,” by conforming to Laud’s
idea.<a id="FNanchor_819" href="#Footnote_819" class="fnanchor">[819]</a></p>

<p>He had heard of America as a land of splendid
possibilities—as the Holy Land of a grander crusade
than that which had been launched to clutch
the East from beneath the Saracenic scimetars; for
this meant not empty sentimentality, it was an effort
to win the wilderness for God. In that essay he
longed to share; and his quick-flowing blood, his
bold energy, and what Winthrop called his “godly
fervor,” united to decide him to quit England,
cramped in forms and chained in wrongs, for the
young, elastic, unbounded freedom of the west of
the Atlantic.</p>

<p>Roger Williams was an earnest seeker after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_337"></a>[337]</span>
truth. Like Robinson, he smiled at the idea that
the acme of knowledge had been reached. He
knew, moreover, that his goal was to be run for “not
without toil and heat.” He was romantically conscientious;
but he held to his opinions with grim
determination, while the slowly-ripening principles
of the English revolution of 1640 had already
flowered in his brain. Now, in New England, he
longed to set his ideas on two feet, and bid them
run across the continent.</p>

<p>Like all positive characters, the young Welchman
speedily attracted attention and made himself
felt. His clear, ringing heel had scarce sounded in
Boston streets ere he was cordoned by friends and
surrounded by foes.<a id="FNanchor_820" href="#Footnote_820" class="fnanchor">[820]</a> His opinions were novel;
some of them have been grafted into the fundamental
law of our Republic, and are now justly
considered the palladium of religious peace; others
are still unsettled and partly unaccepted, being held
by certain sects, and rejected by several as the <i lang="la">disjecta
membra</i> of divinity; but to the Pilgrims they
were alike odious and revolutionary.</p>

<p>But the principle upon which hangs his immortality
of fame is that of complete toleration. “He
was a Puritan, and a fugitive from English persecution,”
remarks Bancroft, “but his wrongs had not
clouded his accurate understanding. In the capacious
recesses of his mind he had revolved the
nature of intolerance, and he, and he alone, had
arrived at the grand principle which is its sole effectual<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_338"></a>[338]</span>
remedy. He announced his discovery under
the simple proposition of the sanctity of conscience.
The civil magistrate should restrain crime, but never
control opinion; should punish guilt, but never violate
the freedom of the soul. The doctrine contained
within itself an entire reformation of theological
jurisprudence; it would blot from the statute-book
the felony of non-conformity; would quench
the fires that persecution had so long kept burning;
would repeal every law compelling attendance
on public worship; would abolish tithes and all
forced contributions to the maintenance of religion;
would give an equal protection to every form of religious
faith; and never suffer the authority of civil
government to be enlisted against the mosque of
the Mussulman, or the altar of the fire-worshipper;
the Jewish synagogue, or the Roman cathedral.
It is wonderful with what distinctness Roger Williams
deduced these inferences from his central
tenet, the consistency with which, like Pascal and
Edwards, those bold and profound reasoners on
other subjects, he accepted every fair inference
from his doctrine, and the circumspection with
which he repelled every unjust imputation. In
the unwavering assertion of these views he never
changed his position; the sanctity of conscience
was the great tenet, which, with all its consequences,
he defended as he first trod the shores of
New England; and in his extreme old age it was
the last pulsation of his heart. But it placed the
young emigrant in direct opposition to the whole<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_339"></a>[339]</span>
system on which Massachusetts was founded; and
forbearing and forgiving as was his temper, prompt
as he was to concede every thing which honesty
permitted, he always asserted his belief, however
unpalatable it might be, with temperate firmness
and an unbending benevolence.”<a id="FNanchor_821" href="#Footnote_821" class="fnanchor">[821]</a> And just here,
it is only fair to add, that his opponents, on their
part, usually applied their principles without personal
animosity. Between Williams and his great
antagonist, Cotton, there was always, in their most
heated moods, a substratum of cordial respect, while
Winthrop, though consenting to the banishment of
the pioneer American reformer, continued his fast
friend through all.<a id="FNanchor_822" href="#Footnote_822" class="fnanchor">[822]</a></p>

<p>This principle of toleration, together <ins class="corr" id="tn-339" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'with sevral other'">
with several other</ins> obnoxious tenets, all of which Williams
avowed with frank courage, soon brought him under
the frown of the colonial authorities—a frown
which deepened when he refused to unite with the
church at Boston “because its members would not
make public declaration of their repentance for
having communion with the church of England
before their emigration.”<a id="FNanchor_823" href="#Footnote_823" class="fnanchor">[823]</a></p>

<p>This declaration—and the same thing may be
said of several of his tenets—looks narrow and bigoted
in our eyes; but Roger Williams had an undoubted
right to cherish his own views under the very
principles which he first of all men in America proclaimed,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_340"></a>[340]</span>
that “the public or the magistrate may
decide what is due from man to man, but when they
attempt to prescribe a man’s duties to God, they
are out of place, and there can be no safety; for it
is clear, that if the magistrate has the power, he
may decree one set of opinions or beliefs to-day
and another to-morrow; as has been done in England
by different kings and queens, and by different
popes and councils in the Roman church; so that
belief would become a heap of confusion.”<a id="FNanchor_824" href="#Footnote_824" class="fnanchor">[824]</a></p>

<p>Be this as it may, the Pilgrims came to regard
Roger Williams as a dangerous heresiarch; as “unsettled
in judgment;”<a id="FNanchor_825" href="#Footnote_825" class="fnanchor">[825]</a> as carrying “a windmill in
his head.”<a id="FNanchor_826" href="#Footnote_826" class="fnanchor">[826]</a> Indeed, so strong was this feeling that
many years afterwards Cotton Mather headed his
account of Williams’ advent, in the “Magnalia,”
with this Latin: “<i lang="la">Hic se aperit Diabolus</i>”—Here
the devil shows himself.<a id="FNanchor_827" href="#Footnote_827" class="fnanchor">[827]</a></p>

<p>Under these circumstances, we may easily imagine
the consternation which reigned in Boston,
when, in April, 1631, it was rumored that Roger
Williams was about to be installed in the vacant
place of Francis Higginson at Salem as assistant to
Mr. Skelton.<a id="FNanchor_828" href="#Footnote_828" class="fnanchor">[828]</a> The court was convened; and a letter
was at once indited to John Endicott, “one of the
chief promoters of the settlement,” in which, says
Winthrop, the judges “marvelled that he should
countenance such a choice without advising with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_341"></a>[341]</span>
the Council; and withal desiring him to use his influence
that the Salem church should forbear till all
could confer about it.”<a id="FNanchor_829" href="#Footnote_829" class="fnanchor">[829]</a></p>

<p>In that day good ministers were not common in
New England; and, moreover, the Salem churchmen
liked Williams; so, without heeding the remonstrance
of the authorities, they proceeded to settle
the teacher of their choice. He at once began to
preach; but with the advance of summer the temper
of the government grew hot with the season,
and finally he decided to bid Salem farewell and
take refuge at Plymouth.<a id="FNanchor_830" href="#Footnote_830" class="fnanchor">[830]</a> This he did, being soon
after elected assistant to Ralph Smith.<a id="FNanchor_831" href="#Footnote_831" class="fnanchor">[831]</a> At Plymouth
as at Salem, he made many friends, and Bradford
bears witness that he was “a man godly and
zealous, having many precious parts.”<a id="FNanchor_832" href="#Footnote_832" class="fnanchor">[832]</a> But his
“strange opinions” were not fully approved; and
consequently, when, after the death of Mr. Skelton,
in 1633, the Salem church urged their truant pastor
to return to them, Williams acceded. He was dismissed,
as Brewster counselled, from the Plymouth
church, but was followed back to Salem by a body-guard
of devoted admirers, “who would have no
other preacher.”<a id="FNanchor_833" href="#Footnote_833" class="fnanchor">[833]</a></p>

<p>It was during his sojourn at Plymouth that
Roger Williams began to cement that famous friendship
with the Indians which was one day to stand<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_342"></a>[342]</span>
him in such good stead.<a id="FNanchor_834" href="#Footnote_834" class="fnanchor">[834]</a> “My soul’s desire,” he
said, “was to do the natives good.”<a id="FNanchor_835" href="#Footnote_835" class="fnanchor">[835]</a> And later,
when</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent10">“Declined</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Into the vale of years,”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">he wrote again: “God was pleased to give me a
painful, patient spirit, to lodge with them in their
filthy, smoky holes, to gain their tongue.”<a id="FNanchor_836" href="#Footnote_836" class="fnanchor">[836]</a> In this
way he became acquainted with Massasoit, the chief
of the Wampanoags, and with Canonicus and Miantonomoh,
the sachems of the Narragansetts, among
whom, in after-years, he sought and found a home.</p>

<p>On his return to Salem his struggle with the
government recommenced. While at Plymouth he
had written a pamphlet against the validity of the
colonial charter, and submitted it to Bradford.<a id="FNanchor_837" href="#Footnote_837" class="fnanchor">[837]</a>
Now he published it. He said: “Why lay such
stress upon your patent from King James? ’Tis
but idle parchment: James has no more right to
give away or sell Massasoit’s lands, and cut and
carve his country, than Massasoit has to sell James’
kingdom or to send his Indians to colonize Warwickshire.”<a id="FNanchor_838" href="#Footnote_838" class="fnanchor">[838]</a></p>

<p>Since the Pilgrims had legalized their title to
the land <i lang="la">in foro conscientiæ</i>, by actual purchase from
the aborigines,<a id="FNanchor_839" href="#Footnote_839" class="fnanchor">[839]</a> it is somewhat difficult to conceive<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_343"></a>[343]</span>
why Williams, already staggering under a load of
odium, should have added to the pack by a declaration
entirely useless, yet certain to kindle anger
because it was looked upon as treason against the
cherished charter.<a id="FNanchor_840" href="#Footnote_840" class="fnanchor">[840]</a></p>

<p>The fact should seem to be that he had the <i lang="la">certaminis
gaudia</i>—the joy of disputation; common to
intellectual gladiators. Occasionally this got the
better of his prudence; and when it did, like a
skilful rider, he soon recovered the reins of his
caution and made glad amends. On this occasion,
he confessed his penitence for the ill which had
arisen from the unfortunate polemic, and offered
to burn the manuscript if the authorities chose to
countenance the bon-fire.<a id="FNanchor_841" href="#Footnote_841" class="fnanchor">[841]</a></p>

<p>Roger Williams next pronounced himself upon
an exciting local question. It was then a mooted
point at Salem whether women were commanded
to appear at church veiled.<a id="FNanchor_842" href="#Footnote_842" class="fnanchor">[842]</a> Singularly enough,
the radical Williams said Yes, and the conservative
Cotton said No; the historic opponents for once
changed places; and Cotton, going to Salem, handled
the subject so convincingly in his morning sermon,
that the ladies came to church in the afternoon
unveiled; upon which “Williams, though unconvinced,
desisted from opposition.”<a id="FNanchor_843" href="#Footnote_843" class="fnanchor">[843]</a></p>

<p>Behind these frivolities were graver issues. In<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_344"></a>[344]</span>
1633, trouble seemed brewing between England and
the Pilgrim colonists. Charles, Laud, and Strafford,
had hinted at a “commission” for the regulation of
the non-conforming American plantations; and the
Privy Council had commanded Cradock to order the
colonial charter home, to be “regulated.” The ex-president
of the Massachusetts Company did write
for it in 1634, and in 1635 “quo warranto”<a id="FNanchor_844" href="#Footnote_844" class="fnanchor">[844]</a> was
issued. But the provisional authorities, while answering
Cradock’s missive, declined to return the
charter.<a id="FNanchor_845" href="#Footnote_845" class="fnanchor">[845]</a></p>

<p>Affairs looked black indeed. Resistance was
seriously contemplated; what was called the “freeman’s
oath,” which bound the colonists to allegiance
to the colony rather than to the king, was
ordered to be subscribed throughout Massachusetts
Bay; and at the same time it was decided to “avoid
and protract.”<a id="FNanchor_846" href="#Footnote_846" class="fnanchor">[846]</a> Nothing prevented England from
launching her cohorts upon the plantations but the
presence of those home troubles which now began
to press the royalist party as closely as the serpents
enveloped Laocöon. It was a time of general
anxiety, and men cried Hush! and held their breath
to see what should next occur.</p>

<p>But “Williams could not keep quiet in this
seething world,” affirms Elliot; “nor could Endicott.
Both of them saw the inevitable tendencies<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_345"></a>[345]</span>
of the Roman church; and feeling that such a
church was dangerous to their infant liberties, they
decided that the symbol under which the pope and
Laud marched should not be their symbol: so Endicott
cut the cross out of the king’s colors. At
such a crisis, when the aim was to ‘avoid and protract,’
this audacious act of course made trouble;
and Endicott, at the next court, was ‘sadly admonished,’
and disabled from office for a year.<a id="FNanchor_847" href="#Footnote_847" class="fnanchor">[847]</a> Williams
held peculiar views respecting oaths, and cited
the Scripture command—‘swear not at all.’ And as
the freeman’s oath clashed with the oath to the
king, he also spoke against that, and dissuaded
some from taking it.”<a id="FNanchor_848" href="#Footnote_848" class="fnanchor">[848]</a></p>

<p>Besides this, Roger Williams was an avowed
democrat. He proclaimed this truth: “Kings and
magistrates are invested with no more power than
the people intrust to them.”<a id="FNanchor_849" href="#Footnote_849" class="fnanchor">[849]</a> And he said again:
“The sovereign power of all civil authority is
founded in the consent of the people.”<a id="FNanchor_850" href="#Footnote_850" class="fnanchor">[850]</a> Republicanism
was the logical sequence of religious liberty—came
from it as naturally as the bud expands
into the flower. Yet it startled the Pilgrims. They
were constantly making forays into the domain of
absolutism. They never scrupled, when they had a
chance, at clutching popular prerogatives. They
were always busy in enacting democracy into law;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_346"></a>[346]</span>
but they were shocked when Roger Williams put it
into propositions.</p>

<p>“Had Cromwell been in power at the time, with
his republican bias,” remarks Felt, “these sentiments
would have been crowned with approbation;
but being uttered under one of the Stuarts, they
were hissed as the expression of sedition. It has
ever been in accordance with the spirit of human
policy, that principles under the circumstances of
one period are accounted patriotism, which under
the circumstances of another era are denounced as
treason.”<a id="FNanchor_851" href="#Footnote_851" class="fnanchor">[851]</a></p>

<p>Thus it was that the theories of Roger Williams
“led him into perpetual collision with the clergy
and the government of Massachusetts Bay. It had
ever been their custom to respect the church of
England, and in the mother-country, they had frequented
its service; yet its principles and its administration
were still harshly exclusive. The American
reformer would hold no communion with intolerance;
for, said he, ‘the doctrine of persecution for
conscience’ sake is most evidently and lamentably
contrary to the doctrine of Jesus Christ.’</p>

<p>“The magistrates insisted on the presence of
every man at public worship; Williams reprobated
the law; the worst statute in the English code was
that which did but enforce attendance upon the
parish church. To compel men to unite with those
of a different creed, he regarded as an open violation
of their natural rights; to drag to public worship<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_347"></a>[347]</span>
the irreligious and the unwilling, seemed like
requiring hypocrisy. ‘An unbelieving soul is dead
in sin’—such was his argument. ‘And to force the
indifferent from one worship to another, is like
shifting a dead man into several changes of apparel.’
He added: ‘No one should be forced to worship,
or to maintain a worship against his own consent.’
‘What!’ exclaimed his antagonists, amazed at his
tenets, ‘is not the laborer worthy of his hire?’
‘Yes,’ replied he, ‘from those who hire him.’</p>

<p>“The magistrates were selected exclusively from
the church-members; with equal propriety, reasoned
Williams, might ‘a doctor of physic or a pilot’ be
selected according to his skill in theology and his
standing in the church. It was objected, that his
principles subverted all good government. ‘Oh
no,’ said he; ‘the commander of the vessel of state
may maintain order on board the ship and see that
it pursues its course steadily, even though the dissenters
of the crew be not compelled to attend the
public prayers of their companions.’”<a id="FNanchor_852" href="#Footnote_852" class="fnanchor">[852]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims heard all this aghast. Soon they
wearied of discussion; they invoked the syllogism
of the law to rebut the heresies of the bold declaimer.
Williams was cited in 1635, to appear
before the General Court at Boston, for examination.
Taking his staff in his hand, he set out.
The session was stormy. Cotton argued; others
scolded; Winthrop pleaded; Endicott was wrenched
away from Williams’ side; but Williams, while<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_348"></a>[348]</span>
maintaining some odd opinions, spoke boldly for
God and liberty that day, and “maintained the
rocky strength of his grounds.”<a id="FNanchor_853" href="#Footnote_853" class="fnanchor">[853]</a></p>

<p>“To the magistrates he seemed the ally of a
civil faction; to himself he appeared only to make
a frank avowal of the truth. The scholar who is
accustomed to the pursuits of abstract philosophy,
lives in a region of thought quite remote from that
by which he is surrounded. The range of his understanding
is aside from the paths of common
minds, and he is often the victim of the contrast.
’Tis not unusual for the world to reject the voice of
truth, because its tones are strange; to declare doctrines
unsound, only because they are new; and
even to charge obliquity or derangement on a man
who brings forward principles which the average
intelligence repudiates. ’Tis the common history;
Socrates, and St. Paul, and Luther, and others of
the most acute dialecticians, have been ridiculed as
drivellers and madmen.”<a id="FNanchor_854" href="#Footnote_854" class="fnanchor">[854]</a></p>

<p>Roger Williams now evinced his kinship with the
martyrs for human progress, by suffering that rejection
common to those who venture to project their
revolutionary thoughts from the front of a century’s
advance. Misunderstood and condemned, he was
commanded to abjure his heresies or else expect
“sentence.”<a id="FNanchor_855" href="#Footnote_855" class="fnanchor">[855]</a></p>

<p>Of course, he could not reject himself; therefore,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_349"></a>[349]</span>
saying with Job, “Though I die, I will maintain my
integrity,” he uncovered his head with serene patience
to “bide the pelting of the pitiless storm.”
The thunderbolt soon fell. The church at Salem
was coerced into abandoning the immortal pastor;
and in November, 1635, he was ordered “to depart
out of the jurisdiction of Massachusetts Bay within
six weeks;”<a id="FNanchor_856" href="#Footnote_856" class="fnanchor">[856]</a> a sentence which is said to have been
mainly due to Cotton’s eloquence.<a id="FNanchor_857" href="#Footnote_857" class="fnanchor">[857]</a></p>

<p>Finally, Williams was permitted to remain at
Salem until the following spring, as the season
then shivered on the verge of winter.<a id="FNanchor_858" href="#Footnote_858" class="fnanchor">[858]</a> Then the
Pilgrims grew alarmed; the reformer’s opinions
were contagious; they thought, after all, that it
would be best to send Williams home to England.
A ship was about to sail; a warrant was issued;
officers were despatched to arrest the disturber of
that Israel. But on coming to his house and opening
the door, they found “darkness there, and nothing
more.” Roger Williams, apprized of the change
of purpose, had quitted Salem “in winter snow and
inclement weather.”<a id="FNanchor_859" href="#Footnote_859" class="fnanchor">[859]</a> On, on he pressed, for Laud
and the Tower of London were behind him. Without
guide, without food, without shelter, he suffered
tortures. “For fourteen weeks I was sorely tossed
in a bitter season”—so he wrote in the evening of
his life—“not knowing what bread or bed did<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_350"></a>[350]</span>
mean.”<a id="FNanchor_860" href="#Footnote_860" class="fnanchor">[860]</a> “But,” said he sweetly, “the ravens fed
me in the wilderness;”<a id="FNanchor_861" href="#Footnote_861" class="fnanchor">[861]</a> and he often made his habitation
in the hollow of a tree. But nothing could
daunt him. His cheerful faith,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent14">“Exempt from public haunt,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Found tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">So he fled on, on, through the snow, the darkness,
the dreary forest; “fled from Christians to the savages,
who knew and loved him, till at last he reached
the kind-hearted but stupid Indian heathen Massasoit.”<a id="FNanchor_862" href="#Footnote_862" class="fnanchor">[862]</a></p>

<p>This winter banishment of Roger Williams was
cruel and bigoted, but it was not without palliation.
He had run a tilt against the law and order
of his time; he had sneered at the validity of the
charter, then the fundamental law; he had impeached
the theocracy; he had the dangerous advantage
of being personally equipped with those
gifts which win and “grapple to the soul with
hooks of steel.” Every motive of worldly prudence
seemed to dictate banishment. These things extenuate,
but they do not excuse; because we are
bound to impeach an untrue order. Paul cried,
“God is God,” and trampled wicked laws beneath
his feet. The catacombs of Pagan Rome were
choked with martyrs who went against the law and
order of their time. Huss and Wickliffe, Latimer
and Ridley, violated law precisely as Roger Williams<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_351"></a>[351]</span>
did. The law-breaker is not necessarily immoral
and a pest. Society is bound to see that the
statute-book does not fetter the human conscience.
If society is recreant to its duty, individuals must
not be false to God. Therefore, in this matter of
opposing the colonial law, we hide Roger Williams
behind the apostles, and enclose him within the
leaves of the New Testament.</p>

<p>After months of vicissitude, the great exile
reached the shores of Narragansett Bay, and
founded Providence. As he floated down the
stream in his canoe, and neared the site of the
beautiful city born of his piety, the Indians shouted,
“Wha-cheer, friend; wha-cheer?” and grasped
his hand with cordial sympathy as he stepped
ashore.<a id="FNanchor_863" href="#Footnote_863" class="fnanchor">[863]</a> A large grant of land was easily obtained
from Canonicus and Miantonomoh—easily obtained
because of the love and favor which they
bore him, since Williams says that money could
not have bought it without affection and confidence<a id="FNanchor_864" href="#Footnote_864" class="fnanchor">[864]</a>—and
as the whole domain was his, he might
have lived as lord-proprietor; but principle forbade.
“On the hill the forests, just clothed in
their full leafage, bowed their heads to this fugitive,
the hero of a great idea, and whispered ‘Liberty!’”<a id="FNanchor_865" href="#Footnote_865" class="fnanchor">[865]</a></p>

<p>He heeded that whisper, and dedicated the
infant state to the most radical idea of liberty; so
that it became the asylum of the oppressed; and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_352"></a>[352]</span>
as the Hebrew prophet always prayed with his
window open towards Jerusalem, so distressed consciences,
when they felt the sting of persecution,
murmured, Providence.</p>

<p>Roger Williams planted a democracy—a government
of the people, by the people, for the people.<a id="FNanchor_866" href="#Footnote_866" class="fnanchor">[866]</a>
He cemented his state by toleration. “The
removal of the yoke of soul-oppression,” said he,
“as it will prove an act of mercy and righteousness
to the enslaved nations, so it is of binding force to
engage the whole and every interest and conscience
to preserve the common liberty and peace.”<a id="FNanchor_867" href="#Footnote_867" class="fnanchor">[867]</a></p>

<p>So it proved; for, spite of Cotton Mather’s epigram,
that it was “<i lang="la">bona terra, mala gens</i>”<a id="FNanchor_868" href="#Footnote_868" class="fnanchor">[868]</a>—a good
land and a wicked people—it increased and prospered
from the outset, justifying the motto of the
commonwealth, <i lang="la">Amor vincet omnia</i>.<a id="FNanchor_869" href="#Footnote_869" class="fnanchor">[869]</a></p>

<p>While Roger Williams believed in toleration, he
did not believe in license, but was always earnest
for liberty regulated by law. Thus when the <em>Ranters</em>
appeared and railed against all order, he invoked
the judicial arm to suppress their madness.<a id="FNanchor_870" href="#Footnote_870" class="fnanchor">[870]</a> But
when the Quakers invaded the state, he attacked
them only with syllogisms. He was ardently opposed
to their tenets; but he essayed to “dig George
Fox out of his burrows” with words only, and returned
a stern “No” to the thrice-repeated request<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_353"></a>[353]</span>
of Massachusetts that they be expelled from his
jurisdiction.<a id="FNanchor_871" href="#Footnote_871" class="fnanchor">[871]</a> “We find,” he wrote, “that where
these people are most of all supposed to declare
themselves freely, and are only opposed by argument,
there they least of all desire to come.”<a id="FNanchor_872" href="#Footnote_872" class="fnanchor">[872]</a></p>

<p>In 1643, Williams went to England to obtain a
charter for his plantation. He “found all in a
flame; civil war raging, Hampden just killed,
Charles fled from London, and the city and the
government in the hands of the Parliament.” Here
he lived on intimate terms with Sir Harry Vane
and Milton, kindred spirits, who were doing in
England what he had done in America. His mission
was successful, and a twelvemonth later he
returned to Providence with a liberal patent, the
free-will offering of jubilant democracy across the
water.<a id="FNanchor_873" href="#Footnote_873" class="fnanchor">[873]</a></p>

<p>Eight years later, under the Protectorate, Roger
Williams once more visited England on colonial
business; and his admission and recognition among
the foremost thinkers of the time were general and
hearty. The acquaintance with Vane and Milton
was continued, and Marvell and Cromwell were
added to his list of friends.<a id="FNanchor_874" href="#Footnote_874" class="fnanchor">[874]</a> But his heart was in
America, and in 1654 he came back to Providence;<a id="FNanchor_875" href="#Footnote_875" class="fnanchor">[875]</a>
whereupon he was elected president of the cluster
of plantations which, in after-days, were moulded
into the little state of Rhode Island.<a id="FNanchor_876" href="#Footnote_876" class="fnanchor">[876]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_354"></a>[354]</span></p>

<p>For many years Williams and his colony were
under the frown of their brother Pilgrims; but
through it all they bore cheerily up, trusting to
God, time, and success, to remove all prejudice,
and “keeping always to that one principle, ‘that
every man should have liberty to worship God
according to the light of his own conscience.’”<a id="FNanchor_877" href="#Footnote_877" class="fnanchor">[877]</a></p>

<p>Roger Williams had learned that most difficult
of lessons, to return good for evil. He never
wearied in well-doing; and his fine tact, broad
statesmanship, and friendly zeal, on more than one
occasion came between the colonists who had flung
him into dishonorable banishment and impending
harm.<a id="FNanchor_878" href="#Footnote_878" class="fnanchor">[878]</a> With the Indians he was singularly influential,
and frequently his presence at their camp-fires
and in their wigwams served to explode a maturing
conspiracy.<a id="FNanchor_879" href="#Footnote_879" class="fnanchor">[879]</a></p>

<p>On the Restoration, an event occurred which
finely illustrates the beautiful text, that “He who
goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed,
shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing
his sheaves with him.” The American republican
had been the warm friend and coadjutor of Cromwell,
and Milton, and Pym. When Charles II.
came to the throne, all looked to see his hand
stretched across the Atlantic to menace and chastise.
It was outstretched, but only to bless; for
the foppish Stuart actually renewed the charter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_355"></a>[355]</span>
which the wise Protector had first granted to the
Providence plantations. He paid unconscious homage
to the principle of Roger Williams, and assented
to what Gammel calls “the freest paper that ever
bore the signature of a king—the wonder of the
age.”<a id="FNanchor_880" href="#Footnote_880" class="fnanchor">[880]</a></p>

<p>Such was one instance of the influence of a man
whose beneficent career is at once an example and
an inspiration; not because he was always right or
always wise, but because he was always true to his
own ideal. Roger Williams was the initiator of
many changes; and he, first of all in America,
boldly framed the creed of democracy. But the
brightest jewel in his crown is that he, taking his
life in one hand and his good name in the other,
“was the first reformer in modern Christendom to
assert in its plenitude the doctrine of the liberty of
conscience, the equality of all opinions before the
law. At a time when Germany was the battle-field
for all Europe in the implacable wars of religion;
when even Holland was bleeding with the anger
of vengeful factions; when France was still to go
through a fearful struggle with bigotry; when England
was gasping under the despotism of intolerance;
almost half a century before William Penn
became an American proprietary; and two years
before Descartes founded modern philosophy on
the basis of free reflection,” Roger Williams demanded
the enfranchisement of the human soul.</p>

<p>“We praise the man who first analyzed the air,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_356"></a>[356]</span>
or resolved water into its elements, or drew the
lightning from the clouds, even though the discoveries
may have been as much the fruits of time as
of genius. A moral principle has a much wider
and nearer influence on human happiness; nor can
any discovery of truth be of more direct benefit to
society than that which establishes perpetual religious
peace, and spreads tranquillity through every
community and every bosom.</p>

<p>“If Copernicus is held in everlasting reverence
because, on his death-bed, he published to the
world that the sun is the centre of our system; if
the name of Kepler is preserved in the annals of
human excellence for his sagacity in detecting the
laws of planetary motion; if the genius of Newton
has been almost adored for dissecting a ray of light
and weighing heavenly bodies in a balance—let
there be for the name of Roger Williams at least
some humble place among those who have advanced
moral science, and made themselves the benefactors
of mankind.”<a id="FNanchor_881" href="#Footnote_881" class="fnanchor">[881]</a></p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_357"></a>[357]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.<br>
<span class="fs80">AN ARRIVAL, A UNIVERSITY, AND A STATE.</span></h2>

<div class="blockquot">

<p>“Three things are of the first importance—good men, education,
and a settled commonwealth.”</p>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lord Bacon.</span></p>
</div>


<p>Spite of internecine struggle and transatlantic
intrigue, New England walked steadily on in the
path towards material prosperity. It was inevitable;
for the parents of success were within her borders:
essential godliness was in her right hand, and
the habit of thrift was in her left. It is very probable
that prosperity was helped instead of hindered
by the agitation which was begotten of the official
acts of the colonial government. The stir served
to keep Christendom agog for the latest news from
America. “What are these Pilgrims now at?” was
the inquiry incessantly on every lip. Thus it was
that the name and action of New England became as
prominently familiar in the <i lang="fr">salons</i> of the ultramontanists
in Europe, and in the club-rooms of the riotous
cavaliers, as in the humble dwellings of the
godly Puritans.</p>

<p>Besides, agitation in its turn begot progress.
Where there is silence there is death. If the Alps,
piled in cold, still sublimity, are the emblem of fat
and contented despotism, the ocean is the symbol<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_358"></a>[358]</span>
of democracy; for it is pure and useful only because
never motionless.</p>

<p>At all events, the progress of New England was
unique and unprecedented. “<i lang="la">Nec minor ab exordio</i>,”
says Cotton Mather, “<i lang="la">nec major incrementis ulla</i>.”<a id="FNanchor_882" href="#Footnote_882" class="fnanchor">[882]</a>
Never was any thing more lowly in inception or
more mighty in increase. In 1635, twenty ships
dropped anchor in Boston and Plymouth harbors;<a id="FNanchor_883" href="#Footnote_883" class="fnanchor">[883]</a>
and in that single year three thousand new settlers
were added to the Pilgrim colonies.<a id="FNanchor_884" href="#Footnote_884" class="fnanchor">[884]</a> Men came
over fast and</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">In Vallambrosa, where the Etruscan shades,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">High overarched, imbower.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">And these, like their predecessors, were of “the
best.”<a id="FNanchor_885" href="#Footnote_885" class="fnanchor">[885]</a></p>

<p>With them landed an illustrious <em>trio</em>—Hugh Peters,
the younger Winthrop, and Sir Harry Vane.<a id="FNanchor_886" href="#Footnote_886" class="fnanchor">[886]</a>
The fiery Peters came from one exile to another;
for he had been pastor of an English church at Rotterdam.
He was an enlightened republican, public
spirited, prodigiously energetic, and eloquent, already
endowed with those high qualities which soon
afterwards pushed him into prominence in the English
civil war as the coadjutor of Cromwell, the jailor
of Charles I., and an echoer of the regicidal verdict.<a id="FNanchor_887" href="#Footnote_887" class="fnanchor">[887]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_359"></a>[359]</span></p>

<p>During his seven years’ sojourn in New England,
Hugh Peters was settled at Salem as the successor
of Roger Williams.<a id="FNanchor_888" href="#Footnote_888" class="fnanchor">[888]</a> At once his restless and various
activity bubbled over into works of utility.<a id="FNanchor_889" href="#Footnote_889" class="fnanchor">[889]</a>
He was minister, he was politician, he was factotum.
He saw the commercial capabilities of America,
and set himself to develop them. He “went
from place to place,” says Winthrop, “laboring
both publicly and privately to raise men up to a
public frame of spirit, and so prevailed, that he
procured a good sum of money to set on foot a systematic
fishing business.”<a id="FNanchor_890" href="#Footnote_890" class="fnanchor">[890]</a></p>

<p>The younger Winthrop was Hugh Peters’ <i lang="fr">compagnon
de voyage</i>. ’Tis related of a son of Scipio
Africanus that, proving degenerate, the scoffing Romans
forced him to pluck off a signet-ring which he
wore, with his father’s face engraved upon it. There
was no occasion for such public discipline in this
case, for young Winthrop was, in Cotton Mather’s
phrase, <i lang="la">Bonus a bono, pius a pio</i>, the son of a father
like himself. After an exemplary and studious boyhood,
he had followed the elder Winthrop to New
England; where, dowered with the advantages of
extensive travel and consummate education, he had
been annually elected one of the gubernatorial assistants—an
honor which was continued even when
he returned to Europe for a space.<a id="FNanchor_891" href="#Footnote_891" class="fnanchor">[891]</a></p>

<p>He now came armed with the authority of Lord<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_360"></a>[360]</span>
Say and the “good Lord Brooke,” the original
patentees of Connecticut, to plant a new colony, of
which he should be governor.<a id="FNanchor_892" href="#Footnote_892" class="fnanchor">[892]</a> “But inasmuch as
many good people from Massachusetts Bay and
Plymouth had already taken possession of a part
of his demesne, this courteous and godly gentleman
would give them no molestation; but saying, ‘the
land is broad,’ he accommodated the matter with
them, and then sent a convenient number of men
to erect a town and fort at the mouth of the Connecticut,
which he called, after the patrons of the
enterprise, <em>Say-brook</em>. By this happy action, the
planters farther up the river had no small kindness
done them; while the Indians, who might else have
been even more troublesome than they soon proved,
were kept in some awe.”<a id="FNanchor_893" href="#Footnote_893" class="fnanchor">[893]</a></p>

<p>Winthrop was one of the few early Pilgrims who
had been graduated at a university, yet was not
won to lay aside his layman garb for the clerical
robe. “It is a singular fact,” observes Elliot, “that,
possessed as he was of scholarly and scientific
tastes, he took hold resolutely of the material life
of his plantation at Saybrook, and worked to shape
it well, as the base of the superior structure which
he meant to rear upon it. He appreciated what
scholars and idealists are prone to forget, the prime
value of a good material foundation. For many
years he was chosen governor of the colony, and in
that position he gave universal satisfaction. For<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_361"></a>[361]</span>
his vices and his enemies, if he had either, they are
forgotten.</p>

<p>“He was too large a man to engage in the persecution
of the Quakers, which he always opposed;
and if he believed in witchcraft, a rank superstition
at that time common, it was as a query, not as a
fact. His leisure hours were devoted to science;
and his contributions to the old ‘Royal Society of
London,’ of which he was an early member, were
highly valued. Indeed, Boyle and other scientific
scholars at one period had a plan for joining their
fellow-student in the New World, for the purpose
of pushing their investigations of natural knowledge.”<a id="FNanchor_894" href="#Footnote_894" class="fnanchor">[894]</a></p>

<p>The last member of this famous group, Sir Harry
Vane junior, was at this time but twenty-three,<a id="FNanchor_895" href="#Footnote_895" class="fnanchor">[895]</a>
and he came out much against the wishes of a father
who stood as high in the confidence of the queen of
England as Strafford did in the affections of the
king.<a id="FNanchor_896" href="#Footnote_896" class="fnanchor">[896]</a> “Let him go,” said Charles to the perturbed
courtier, when he learned that Harry had
turned Puritan and proposed to emigrate—“Let
him go; my word for’t, he’ll soon sicken on’t and
be back, if you give him consent to remain in those
parts for three years.”<a id="FNanchor_897" href="#Footnote_897" class="fnanchor">[897]</a></p>

<p>So the devout boy embarked. On reaching Boston,
he was saluted with enthusiasm. His high<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_362"></a>[362]</span>
birth, his sacrifices, his Puritanism, his splendid
talents, every thing about him, served to enlist the
sober Pilgrims in his favor; and this effect was
heightened by his personal beauty, singular learning,
and ingratiating manners.<a id="FNanchor_898" href="#Footnote_898" class="fnanchor">[898]</a> As the Bostonians
knew him better they liked him better; soon
he was the most popular man in the colony; and
in 1636 he was elected to fill the gubernatorial
chair—elected over the heads of Winthrop, and
Dudley, and the elders of our Israel, which they
might and did look upon as a freak of democratic
strategy quite superfluous.<a id="FNanchor_899" href="#Footnote_899" class="fnanchor">[899]</a></p>

<p>The first public act of the three friends was, to
placate a long smouldering feud between Winthrop
and Dudley. Winthrop was accused of over-leniency
in his politics; Dudley was charged with undue
severity. A friendly convention was held; the
questions at issue were kindly talked over. Vane
and Peters counselled mutual forbearance; and the
quarrel ended with a “loving reconciliation” never
afterwards broken.<a id="FNanchor_900" href="#Footnote_900" class="fnanchor">[900]</a></p>

<p>Some little time after Winthrop and Dudley,
under Vane’s auspices, had given each other the
kiss of peace and gone home arm in arm, with the
fire of their differences definitively quenched, measures
were matured to plant a college in New England.
Nothing more finely exhibits the wisdom of
the Pilgrim Fathers than their watchful and ample
provision for education, which Bacon has fitly
termed the “sheet-anchor of peaceful commonwealths.”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_363"></a>[363]</span>
In their estimation, its importance was
second to nothing but religion, whose handmaid
it was.</p>

<p>They longed to rear a race of cultured men—to
plant a school which should elbow out of America
those wicked universities which were then the pests
of Europe—vicious sinks which Beza called <i lang="la">Flabella
Satanæ</i>, Satan’s fans; and which Luther styled
<i lang="la">Cathedras pestilentiæ et antichristi luminaria</i>, seats of
pestilence and beacons of antichrist; where, under
the tuition of the Jesuits, immorality was made a
fine art, and ferocity was taught as a cardinal virtue.</p>

<p>With this twofold object, a public school was
called into life at Cambridge in 1636; and in that
same year the General Court made a grant of four
hundred pounds, which formed the legs on which
the infant university first toddled.<a id="FNanchor_901" href="#Footnote_901" class="fnanchor">[901]</a> Later, John
Harvard bequeathed eight hundred pounds and
his library to help forward the scholastic venture;
whereupon the grateful authorities eternized the
donor’s name by calling the school <span class="smcap">Harvard College</span>.<a id="FNanchor_902" href="#Footnote_902" class="fnanchor">[902]</a></p>

<p>Henceforth New England had a “city of books.”
Harvard college speedily became a nursery of piety,
and was to America, as Livy said of Greece, <i lang="la">sal
gentium</i>.<a id="FNanchor_903" href="#Footnote_903" class="fnanchor">[903]</a> In narrating this achievement, the quaint
divine who heaped together the mingled wheat and
chaff of the <cite>Magnalia</cite>, cites triumphantly the language<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_364"></a>[364]</span>
of the orator who chanted pæans to the English
Cambridge: “We have now provided—and let
envy be as far removed from this declaration as is
falsehood—that in popular assemblies stone shall
not talk to stone; that the church shall not lack
priests, or the bar jurists, or the community physicians;
for we have supplied the church, the government,
the senate, and the army, with accomplished
men.”<a id="FNanchor_904" href="#Footnote_904" class="fnanchor">[904]</a></p>

<p>Thus the new university was rightly esteemed
an ornament and a civilizer; for learning, as the
poet has hymned it,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Chastens the manners, and the soul refines.”<a id="FNanchor_905" href="#Footnote_905" class="fnanchor">[905]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">The school is at once preserver and benefactor; it
is <i lang="la">urbis medicus</i>, the physician of the state.</p>

<p>And now the settlements along the coast-line of
Massachusetts were become “like hives overstocked
with bees; and many of the new inhabitants began
to entertain the thought of swarming into plantations
farther in the interior.” The fifteen thousand
settlers in Massachusetts felt crowded. They longed
to imitate the Plymouth Pilgrims, who had sent out
a forlorn hope to colonize Windsor, and the venture
of the younger Winthrop at Saybrook. They too,
longed</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent14">“To descry new lands,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Rivers and mountains, in this spotty globe.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>As early as 1634, Hooker’s parishioners, at Cambridge,
had petitioned the General Court to permit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_365"></a>[365]</span>
them “to look out either for enlargement or removal.”<a id="FNanchor_906" href="#Footnote_906" class="fnanchor">[906]</a>
The authorities withheld their assent at the
outset; but when, in 1636, the motion was renewed,
they said Yes.<a id="FNanchor_907" href="#Footnote_907" class="fnanchor">[907]</a></p>

<p>Hooker—whom Morton calls “a son of thunder”<a id="FNanchor_908" href="#Footnote_908" class="fnanchor">[908]</a>—and
Haynes were the chief promoters of
this project to remove.<a id="FNanchor_909" href="#Footnote_909" class="fnanchor">[909]</a> The winter of 1635-6 was
spent in active preparation. Scouting parties were
thrown forward. In the opening of the year, Hartford
was settled, government was organized, civil
order was established.<a id="FNanchor_910" href="#Footnote_910" class="fnanchor">[910]</a> At the same time pioneers
went out from Dorchester, and pushing the earlier
Plymouth settlers from the ground, usurped Windsor
in the name of Massachusetts Bay.<a id="FNanchor_911" href="#Footnote_911" class="fnanchor">[911]</a> Others
quitted Watertown, and sat down at Wethersfield;<a id="FNanchor_912" href="#Footnote_912" class="fnanchor">[912]</a>
while some left Roxbury, and were enchurched
at Springfield, which was afterwards
found to lie within the boundary of the old Bay
State.<a id="FNanchor_913" href="#Footnote_913" class="fnanchor">[913]</a></p>

<p>But this emigration was merely preliminary; it
was the first patter of the coming shower; it was
the scouts of the Pilgrims, making an initial survey
of the new Hesperia of Puritanism. In June, 1636,
the principal caravan, led by Thomas Hooker and
John Haynes, began its march. “There were of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_366"></a>[366]</span>
the company about one hundred souls, many of
them persons accustomed to the affluence and ease
of European life. They drove before them numerous
herds of cattle; and thus they traversed the
pathless forests of Massachusetts, advancing hardly
ten miles a day through the tangled woods, across
the swamps and numerous streams, and over the
highlands that separated the intervening valleys;
subsisting, as they slowly wandered along, on the
milk of the kine, who browsed on the fresh leaves
and early shoots; having no guide through the
nearly untrodden wilderness but the compass, and
no pillow for their nightly rest but heaps of stones.
How did the hills echo with the unwonted lowing
of the herds! How were the forests enlivened by
the fervent piety of Hooker! Never again was
there such a pilgrimage from the seaside ‘to the
delightful banks’ of the Connecticut.”<a id="FNanchor_914" href="#Footnote_914" class="fnanchor">[914]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims paused at Hartford, which the
presence of Hooker and Haynes soon lifted into
the foremost importance, and it became the Jerusalem
of the west. The government was similar to
that which Winthrop, and Endicott, and Cotton had
shaped at Boston, except that now the church-membership
test was omitted, church and state were
half-divorced, and all freemen were citizens<a id="FNanchor_915" href="#Footnote_915" class="fnanchor">[915]</a>—liberality
which placed the new-born state close beside
the Providence plantations in magnanimous catholicity.
Indeed, Haynes, whose plastic hand moulded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_367"></a>[367]</span>
the primitive constitution of Connecticut, had
gone through a bitter experience in the trial and
banishment of Roger Williams; and his wiser statesmanship
bade him beware lest, in steering clear of
the Scylla of anarchy, he should ground his politics
on the Charybdis of bigotry. His wise tact saved
him from both perils, and enabled him, while never
interrupting the <i lang="fr">entente cordiale</i> with Massachusetts,
to open a friendly intercourse with the Rhode Island
“heretics.”<a id="FNanchor_916" href="#Footnote_916" class="fnanchor">[916]</a></p>

<p>A twelvemonth after the arrival of the Pilgrims
at Hartford, the pioneers were flanked by an invasion
of brother Puritans fresh from England. New
Haven was planted; and in 1637, Guilford was
colonized, and then Milford was settled.<a id="FNanchor_917" href="#Footnote_917" class="fnanchor">[917]</a> These
were independent of Connecticut, and for upwards
of forty years formed a separate colony, called
New Haven.<a id="FNanchor_918" href="#Footnote_918" class="fnanchor">[918]</a> “The settlers,” says Cotton Mather,
“were under the conduct of as holy, and as prudent,
and as genteel persons, as ever visited these
nooks of New England; and though they, in a manner,
stole out of Britain, being forbidden to sail,
yet they dropped here a plantation constellated
with many stars of the first magnitude; for if Theophilus
Eaton and John Davenport were not blazing
lights, where shall we hunt for meteors?”<a id="FNanchor_919" href="#Footnote_919" class="fnanchor">[919]</a></p>

<p>The New-Haveners were traders; they believed
more in commerce than in husbandry, and so they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_368"></a>[368]</span>
“went down to the sea in ships.” But in the wilderness
traffic did not yield the dividends which it
gave on ’change in London, or on the Rialtos of the
world; so that in half a decade their stock was
spent, and they so nearly touched bottom that they
gladly turned for help to despised agriculture,<a id="FNanchor_920" href="#Footnote_920" class="fnanchor">[920]</a> the
surest base for new states to build on.</p>

<p>For some months New Haven lacked a charter,
and so floated rudderless. But eventually the settlers
formed themselves into a body politic by mutual
consent, and signed a kind of constitution in a
barn;<a id="FNanchor_921" href="#Footnote_921" class="fnanchor">[921]</a> and this is the first political paper that was
ever cradled in a manger. It was generally <i lang="la">secundum
usum Massachusettensem</i>,<a id="FNanchor_922" href="#Footnote_922" class="fnanchor">[922]</a> to follow Cotton Mather’s
barbarous Latin; or, in plain English, after
the model of the Bay State theocracy.</p>

<p>“Thus it was,” exclaims a jubilant old chronicler,
“that Jesus Christ was worshipped in churches
of an evangelical character in the outermost wilderness;
and from thence, if the inquirer were inclined
to make a sally across the channel to Long
Island, he might have seen the congregations of
our God taking root in those wild wastes.”<a id="FNanchor_923" href="#Footnote_923" class="fnanchor">[923]</a></p>

<p>The New Haven and Connecticut colonists were
for many years on the verge of a quarrel with the
Dutch at New Amsterdam, who felt that in this
territorial race they had been outstripped and outwitted,
and were consequently lifted out of their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_369"></a>[369]</span>
wonted phlegm by irritation. The “Yankee” and
the Dutchman carried on a lusty war of words about
their boundary lines, and for this good reason, there
were none. Irving tells us that the Dutch disliked
the smell of onions; and that the keen Yankee,
knowing this, planted his rows each year a little
farther west, and before this invasion of onions the
sad Dutchman always retired with tearful eyes, leaving
the polluted soil to the onion planters.</p>

<p>But bright as seemed the portents, the colonists
soon found themselves environed by danger—girdled
by a wall of fire. The hostile Dutchman
scowled in the west. The untrodden wilderness
stretched away on the north. Scores of weary,
pathless miles separated them from their brothers
on the Atlantic coast. The vengeful Pequods were
panting for war in the southeast. They had found,
not peace, but a sword; their painful enterprise
seemed but “a lure to draw victims within the
reach of the tomahawk.” Premonitory symptoms
gave warning that danger lurked in the covert beside
every log-house beyond the mountains. Soon
the woods were ambuscaded, “and the darkness of
midnight began to glitter with the blaze of the
frontier cabins.” Then shrieked the ghastly Pequod,
smeared in his horrid paint. “Fathers found
the blood of their sons fattening the wasted cornfields;
mothers were frozen by the war-whoop which
disturbed the peaceful slumber of the cradle.”</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_370"></a>[370]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.<br>
<span class="fs80">ON THE WAR-TRAIL.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent24">“The shout</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of battle, the barbarian yell, the bray</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Of dissonant instruments, the clang of arms,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The shriek of agony, the groan of death,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">In one wild uproar and continued din,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Shake the still air.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent23"><span class="smcap">Southey’s</span> <cite>Madoc</cite>.</div>
</div>
</div>


<p>’Tis related of a certain keeper of wild beasts at
Florence, that, after he had entertained the spectators
in the amphitheatre with their encounters on
the stage, he had a strange device for forcing them
back into their dens. A wooden machine, painted
in the image of a great green dragon, with two
lighted torches protruding from its sockets as eyes,
and vomiting sulphurous flame, was wheeled into
the midst of the herd, and before this onset the
fiercest animal crawled howling to his cell.</p>

<p>’Tis an emblem of despotism; it is government
coercing men by fraud and fear, by appeals to the
ignorant and brutish instincts. The Pilgrim Fathers
took a long stride away from that ugly ideal. They
developed a nobler type of civil polity; and in
nothing was their temper and Christianity more
firmly shown than in their treatment of the Indians,
whom they regarded as the orphaned wards of
civilization. They were uniformly gentle and obliging<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_371"></a>[371]</span>
to the savage tribes, and they were invariably
and inflexibly just in treatment and in requisition.
Take this for an illustration: In 1636, an Indian who
had been on a trading tour to the pale-face settlements,
seated himself towards evening on the day
of his return in the woods on the edge of a swamp.
He had with him a parcel of coats, and five pieces
of wampum, the peaceful trophies of his barter.
Soon he was accosted by four white men who happened
to pass. A friendly chat ensued; the pipe of
peace was passed; when suddenly the whites saw
the coats and the wampum. At once that meanest,
most unscrupulous imp in Satan’s brood, the devil
of avarice, entered their hearts—avarice, of which
Decker has said,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“When all our sins are old in us,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">And go upon crutches, covetousness</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Does but then lie in her cradle.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">They determined to assassinate the dusky trader
and filch his goods. Under pretence of shaking
hands with him, one of the ruffians stabbed him in
the thigh; this blow was followed by another, and
yet another; whereupon the death-smitten savage
fled. The murderers also departed; and when they
were gone the Indian crawled back from his forest
hiding-place and stretched himself across the trail,
that he might be discovered and receive help.</p>

<p>This scene was enacted at Pawtucket, near Providence,
but then within the precincts of Plymouth
colony. Some hours after the affray, Roger Williams
learned from an Indian runner that some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_372"></a>[372]</span>
pale faces were at Pawtucket almost starved. He
at once sent the sufferers food and spirits, and a
cordial invitation to visit his cabin. After some
delay they came, enlisting the sympathy of their
kind host by a pitiful tale of loss of way and hunger
in the forest. Towards ten o’clock all retired. At
midnight a loud cry was heard. The Indians clamored
at the door for admittance, and to Roger Williams’
queries they replied by informing him that
one of their brothers lay almost dead in the woods
from wounds inflicted by a party of pale-faces.
“Have you seen them?” they shouted.</p>

<p>Meantime, the murderers, awakened by the cries,
had fled. They were pursued, and three of the four
were captured, and arraigned for trial at Plymouth.
A jury was empannelled, and among the twelve
“good men and true” were Bradford, and Standish,
and Prince, and Winslow.<a id="FNanchor_924" href="#Footnote_924" class="fnanchor">[924]</a> No delay was suffered,
but the trial was fair and open. The guilt of the
assassins was clearly proved, and they were sentenced
to be hung.<a id="FNanchor_925" href="#Footnote_925" class="fnanchor">[925]</a> Three limp forms suspended
from the gallows-tree a little later, gave most palpable
evidence that justice covered even the tangled
wilderness morasses with its ægis. It was as certain
death to kill an Indian in the forests of America,
as to slay a noble in the crowded streets of
London.</p>

<p>The effect of this execution was salutary. Its
strict impartiality pleased the shrewd red men. It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_373"></a>[373]</span>
convinced them of the certainty of the colonial protection.
And kindred acts before had won them to
surrender that most prominent trait in their habits,
<ins class="corr" id="tn-373" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'the evenging of'">
the avenging of</ins> their personal wrongs; they adjourned
their injuries to the justice of the Pilgrim
courts and invoked the statute, sure that</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“The good need fear no law;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">It is his safety, and the bad man’s awe.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>But now this old epoch was buried: a new one
dawned. The Indian surveyed the incoming pale-face
tide which seemed always to flow and never to
ebb. The hunting-grounds of his people began to
disappear. His own domain was restricted—there
was no longer free range. A farm was here; a
clearing was there; yonder stood a settler’s cabin.
The “medicines” of the red men grew alarmed.
They asked each other: “Where will this end?”
To be sure, the settlers held their estates by purchase;
but the Indians did not always understand
the value of a bargain from which they reaped no
benefit; nor did they at all times recognize the validity
of contracts made by their sachems, perhaps
without the knowledge of the tribe, and which alienated
the forest acres of their immemorial inheritance.</p>

<p>Heated by memory and by fear, and kindled by
some occasionally unfriendly acts of the colonists—for
in so large a population it was impossible that
all should be just and honest—many of the New
England tribes grew restless and peevish. A human
powder magazine yawned beneath the feet of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_374"></a>[374]</span>
Pilgrims; it needed but some bold hand to drop
the spark to cause an explosion which might unhinge
a continent.</p>

<p>This the Pequods essayed to do. They had long
been fretful. The Connecticut colonists had befriended
a rival and hated tribe, the Mohegans.<a id="FNanchor_926" href="#Footnote_926" class="fnanchor">[926]</a>
Sassacus, the sachem of the Pequods, and Uncas,
the Mohegan sagamore, were at deadly enmity.<a id="FNanchor_927" href="#Footnote_927" class="fnanchor">[927]</a>
Yet Uncas was the frequent and welcome occupant
of pale-face cabins from Providence in the east to
the farthest onion rows which troubled the Dutchmen
in the west. The Pequods panted for revenge.
They began to intrigue for a war of extermination.
Embassies were despatched to inveigle neighboring
tribes into an alliance against the ever-encroaching
pale-faces. At the camp-fires of the Wampanoags,
and in the wigwams of the Narragansetts, the Pequod
orators pleaded their wrongs, sneered at the
whites, and depicted the ferocious pleasures of the
war-path to many a credulous and eager listener.</p>

<p>The forests became pregnant with insurrection,
and at last a faint whisper of the impending peril
reached the settlements. White Massachusetts shivered.
Sir Harry Vane, knowing the influence of
Roger Williams with the Indians, wrote him urgently
to balk the Pequod embassadors among the Narragansetts.<a id="FNanchor_928" href="#Footnote_928" class="fnanchor">[928]</a>
At once the founder of Rhode Island set
out; alone in his canoe, through a cutting, stormy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_375"></a>[375]</span>
wind, he pulled across the bay to the forest haunt
of Canonicus and Miantonomoh.<a id="FNanchor_929" href="#Footnote_929" class="fnanchor">[929]</a></p>

<p>“The Pequod diplomats were already at work,
urging the dark dangers which hung over their united
tribes, reiterating the tale of the encroachments
of the whites, the chicanery, the insolence, the cruelty,
which some had practised, and appealing to the
Indian pride of possession and of race. For three
days and nights Roger Williams, in the sachem’s
lodge, mixed with the bloody-minded Pequod embassadors,
and pushed his dangerous opposition to
the war; and at last his old friendship and superior
diplomacy prevailed. Canonicus and Miantonomoh
repudiated the Pequod league and refused to dig up
the tomahawk.”<a id="FNanchor_930" href="#Footnote_930" class="fnanchor">[930]</a></p>

<p>The Pequods, no whit disheartened by this balk,
determined to fight unassisted, thinking, perhaps,
that the precipitation of hostilities would fire the
Indian heart.</p>

<p>Sassacus, followed by seven hundred<a id="FNanchor_931" href="#Footnote_931" class="fnanchor">[931]</a> painted
and yelling warriors, plunged into the woods and
opened the war-path. Winding out of their beautiful
nest in southeastern Connecticut, between the
rivers Pawcatuck and Thames,<a id="FNanchor_932" href="#Footnote_932" class="fnanchor">[932]</a> they spread consternation
and the most ghastly form of death
north, east, south, west.</p>

<p>According to their habit, the Indians were cautious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_376"></a>[376]</span>
at the outset. Isolated instances announced
their hostility. In 1634, Captains Stone and Norton
sailed up the Connecticut in a coasting smack,
manned by a crew of eight men. They were steering
for a Dutch trading station on the river side,
when their vessel was becalmed. In a flash a fleet
of canoes were launched from either bank of the
river, and a swarm of savages surrounded the
smack. Suspecting no danger, twelve of them were
permitted to board, and Stone engaged two of these
to pilot a boat higher up the stream. The guides
at night murdered the two sailors in charge of this
shallop, and at the same hour their companions on the
vessel assailed the sleeping crew. Stone was killed
secretly in his cabin, and, to conceal the body, a
light covering was thrown over it. Then the massacre
extended to the deck and forecastle. Soon
all were dead save Norton. “He had taken to the
cook-room on the first alarm, and here he made a
long and resolute defence. That he might load and
fire with the greatest expedition, he placed powder
in an open bowl, just at hand, which, in the hurry
of action, taking fire, so burned and blinded him
that he could fight no longer; whereupon he too
was tomahawked.”<a id="FNanchor_933" href="#Footnote_933" class="fnanchor">[933]</a> Then the smack was pillaged
and sunk.<a id="FNanchor_934" href="#Footnote_934" class="fnanchor">[934]</a></p>

<p>Two years later, John Oldham,<a id="FNanchor_935" href="#Footnote_935" class="fnanchor">[935]</a> while trading
fairly on the Connecticut, was suddenly set upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_377"></a>[377]</span>
and brained. His companions, two Narragansett
Indians and a couple of boys, were kidnapped.<a id="FNanchor_936" href="#Footnote_936" class="fnanchor">[936]</a></p>

<p>A few days after this sad catastrophe, an old
English sailor, John Gallup, floating on the tranquil
bosom of the treacherous river in his little shallop
of twenty tons, manned only by himself, his two
sons, and one old salt, espied Oldham’s pinnace off
Block Island. He tacked for it and hailed. No
answer; a closer survey showed him a deck crowded
with Indians. Gallup’s suspicion was aroused, and
when the clumsy savages attempted to make sail
and get away, he regarded the movement as a cover
to foul play.</p>

<p>Then one of the most remarkable instances of
gallantry recorded in the annals of border warfare
occurred. Gallup, with his single sailor and his two
little boys, armed only with a couple of rusty muskets,
two pistols, and some buck-shot, prepared for
action, and this though fourteen savages, heated by
carnage and drunk with blood, stood ready with
guns, and pikes, and swords, to repel his assault.
The wind was fresh, and the audacious captain
steered directly for the pinnace, and striking it stem
foremost, nearly upset it; which so frightened the
Indians that six of them jumped overboard and
were drowned. Repeating this manœuvre—in unconscious
imitation of the Athenian naval tactics—he
came stem on again; for there were still too
many Indians for him to venture to carry the pinnace
by boarding. After this thump, Gallup had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_378"></a>[378]</span>
the satisfaction of seeing, as he cleared his vessel
and stood off once more, four more savages leap
into a watery grave—for they all sank. Then he
steered for the battered craft for the third time;
whereupon the remaining Indians sought refuge in
the hold beneath the hatches. Gallup sprang on the
deck of poor Oldham’s vessel, and there, stretched
out before his eyes, was the late owner himself, still
warm, but with cloven skull and amputated hands
and feet.<a id="FNanchor_937" href="#Footnote_937" class="fnanchor">[937]</a></p>

<p>The savages in the hold were now anxious to
surrender. Two of them at Gallup’s bidding came
up and were bound; and then, maddened by the
sight of Oldham’s disfigured corpse, the sailor
plunged the victims into the river. The two remaining
savages would not give up their arms or
come up from under the hatches. Gallup could not
dig them out; so he secured the cargo, buried Oldham,
and then tying the pinnace to the stern of his
own victorious shallop, he set sail to tow her to the
settlements. But in the night it blew hard; his capture
was detached, and, drifting to the Narragansett
shore, the secreted warriors escaped—two only
out of fourteen<a id="FNanchor_938" href="#Footnote_938" class="fnanchor">[938]</a>—a swift and sweeping retribution.</p>

<p>The knowledge of these dismal tragedies crept
slowly into the colonies. News was carried only by
some coastwise vessel, whose progress, crab-like, was
backwards; by some Indian runner often interested
in being sluggish; or by some pale sufferer who, traversing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_379"></a>[379]</span>
forest, morass, and mountain, was frequently
his own messenger of woe; for the Pilgrims had no
stage-coaches like their immediate descendants; no
good roads, like the men of ’76; no railway and no
steamboat, like ourselves; and above all, no telegraph,
annihilating space, to</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Speed the swift intercourse from soul to soul,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Or waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">But eventually the colonists learned of these spasmodic
outrages; and all promptly decided that justice
and the common weal alike dictated punishment.
“After consultation with ‘the magistrates and ministers,’
Sir Harry Vane despatched ninety men down
Long Island sound, in three small vessels, to the
seat of war—Block island. The expedition was
under the chief command of John Endicott, who
was assisted by four subordinate officers, one of
whom, Captain John Underhill, wrote an account
of the foray and of the succeeding and more effective
one. A sort of Friar Tuck—devotee, bravo,
libertine, and buffoon—Underhill takes a memorable
place among the eccentric characters who
from time to time broke what has been altogether
too easily assumed to have been the dead level of
New England gravity in those days. He had been
a soldier in Ireland, in Spain, and more recently
in the Netherlands, where he ‘had spoken freely
with Count Nassau.’ He came over with Winthrop,
who employed him to train the Pilgrims in military
tactics.”<a id="FNanchor_939" href="#Footnote_939" class="fnanchor">[939]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_380"></a>[380]</span></p>

<p>The expedition, spite of Endicott’s skill and Underhill’s
bravery and the number of men engaged
in it, was an essential failure. A few savages were
shot; some lodges were burned; several canoes
were staved; and a number of acres of corn were
despoiled. Indeed, just enough was done to madden
the savages, but not enough to intimidate
them.<a id="FNanchor_940" href="#Footnote_940" class="fnanchor">[940]</a></p>

<p>In the summer of 1636, Endicott sailed into Boston
harbor in bloodless triumph. Meantime, his irritating
raid was revenged by a wide-spread assault
upon the isolated Connecticut colonists.<a id="FNanchor_941" href="#Footnote_941" class="fnanchor">[941]</a> Every
tree became a covert. In the long grass, in the morasses,
in the out-buildings of the settlers, lurked
the envenomed savages. To step outside those
block citadels to which all flocked for safety, was
certain death. Men were kidnapped and roasted
alive.<a id="FNanchor_942" href="#Footnote_942" class="fnanchor">[942]</a> Traders were waylaid on the rivers and tortured
to death; and two victims especially were cut
into two parts lengthwise, each half being hung up
on a tree by the bank of the Connecticut.<a id="FNanchor_943" href="#Footnote_943" class="fnanchor">[943]</a> Women
and children were captured and reserved for a fate
worse than death. In the winter of 1637, thirty
of the two hundred settlers who had colonized
Connecticut, fell beneath the hatchets of the Pequods.<a id="FNanchor_944" href="#Footnote_944" class="fnanchor">[944]</a>
Everywhere the whites were worsted; even
at Saybrook, their chief fort, the garrison was held<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_381"></a>[381]</span>
in duress by a besieging band of demoniacal red
men.<a id="FNanchor_945" href="#Footnote_945" class="fnanchor">[945]</a></p>

<p>New England was trembling on the verge of
death. For the distressed and harassed Pilgrims
there seemed no alternative but speedy extermination,
or such an exercise of courage and skill as
should effectually overawe the Indians in the full
flush of their success. Measures were at once matured.
Massachusetts Bay acted with her accustomed
vigor. It was declared that “the war, since
it was waged on just grounds and for self-preservation,
ought to be vigorously prosecuted.”<a id="FNanchor_946" href="#Footnote_946" class="fnanchor">[946]</a> Six hundred
pounds were levied; one hundred and sixty
men were recruited.<a id="FNanchor_947" href="#Footnote_947" class="fnanchor">[947]</a></p>

<p>At Plymouth similar activity was displayed; and
a levy of forty men was made.<a id="FNanchor_948" href="#Footnote_948" class="fnanchor">[948]</a> But it was in Connecticut,
the menaced spot, that the most herculean
exertions were put forth. Hartford, Windsor, and
Wethersfield, placed ninety men in the field, under
the command of stout John Mason—a sometime
soldier in the Low Countries under Sir Thomas
Fairfax, who held him in such esteem that in after-years,
when at the head of the parliamentary muster,
he wrote his truant <i lang="fr">protégé</i> urging his return to
England, that he might lend his skilful sword to the
patriot cause.<a id="FNanchor_949" href="#Footnote_949" class="fnanchor">[949]</a></p>

<p>Mason, with Hooker’s benediction, immediately<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_382"></a>[382]</span>
opened a vigorous campaign. Saybrook was reinforced.<a id="FNanchor_950" href="#Footnote_950" class="fnanchor">[950]</a>
A subsidiary detachment of Mohegans,
under Uncas, was recruited.<a id="FNanchor_951" href="#Footnote_951" class="fnanchor">[951]</a> The mouth of the
Connecticut was made the base of operations, and
thither the united levies of Massachusetts, Connecticut,
and Plymouth, were transported. Here a
council of war was held. After Stone, the chaplain,
had sought the divine direction in prayer, it
was decided to march directly upon the Pequod village
off Point Judith.<a id="FNanchor_952" href="#Footnote_952" class="fnanchor">[952]</a> All embarked; the objective
point was safely reached. Then a storm intervened;
it was impossible to land. The next day
was Sunday; it was spent devoutly on shipboard;
nor was it until Tuesday evening, the third day
after they had dropped anchor, that the eager Pilgrims
touched land.<a id="FNanchor_953" href="#Footnote_953" class="fnanchor">[953]</a></p>

<p>Mason bivouacked on the sea-shore, and in the
gray of the next morning commenced the memorable
march. “Seventy-seven brave Englishmen—the
rest were left in charge of the vessels—sixty
frightened Mohegans, and four hundred more terrified
Narragansetts, entered the war-trail, and went
twenty miles westward towards the Pequod country,
to a fort occupied by some suspected neutrals.
There a pause for the night was made, and, lest any
Indian should give the doomed Pequods the alarm,
the citadel was girt by the sentries of the shrewd
English captain.”<a id="FNanchor_954" href="#Footnote_954" class="fnanchor">[954]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_383"></a>[383]</span></p>

<p>Before noon, on the following morning, they
broke camp, and marched fifteen miles farther
inland, pausing at nightfall under a hill “which,
according to information received from their dusky
allies—who had now all fallen in the rear, ‘being
possessed with great fear’—stood the chief stronghold
of the Pequods.”<a id="FNanchor_955" href="#Footnote_955" class="fnanchor">[955]</a></p>

<p>Mason could hear the savage revelry of the ill-fated
and unsuspecting Indians very distinctly, as
the wind wafted the laughter, the yells, the vaunts,
from the village over the little hill. The din sank
and fell till midnight. All were enjoying a general
guffaw over the English, whose ships they had seen
sail eastward on the sound, bearing, as they imagined,
the pale-face warriors to tell their squaws of
their discomfiture.<a id="FNanchor_956" href="#Footnote_956" class="fnanchor">[956]</a></p>

<p>The Pequod fort was a citadel of straw. It “was
merely a circular acre or two enclosed by trunks of
trees some twelve feet high, set firmly in the ground,
and so closely ranged as to exclude entrance, while
the interstices served as port-holes for marksmen.
Within, ranged along two parallel lanes, were upwards
of seventy wigwams, covered with matting
and thatch. At the two points for entrance or
egress, spaces were left between the timbers, the
intervals being protected only by a slighter structure,
or by loose branches.”<a id="FNanchor_957" href="#Footnote_957" class="fnanchor">[957]</a></p>

<p>Something of all this the curious eyes of the
Pilgrims took in as they patiently waited for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_384"></a>[384]</span>
midnight order to advance. At length it came;
the camp was broken; prayers were offered; the
Indian allies fell back to a still safer distance. The
drowsy Pequod stronghold was surrounded; Mason
was on one side, Underhill was on the other. Cautiously
the girdling band crept on, on, on, towards
the sally-ports, looking like sheeted phantoms in the
ghastly moonlight. Their hands were on the gates,
when a dog barked. The Indians were aroused.
“Owanux! Owanux!” “The Englishmen are here!”
came in a hoarse shout from within. Then, with a
wild “Huzza!” the Pilgrims plunged themselves like
an avalanche upon the frail and creaking fortress,
firing the straw in fifty different directions. The
rest was death; for it was not a battle—it was a
massacre. Shouting the watchwords of the Israelites
in Canaan, the Pilgrims smote the Pequods hip
and thigh, for they knew that safety and peace
dwelt in every blow—that severity was mercy.</p>

<p>Soon the explosion of a powder-train made the
village kick the heavens. Then the flames began
to wink, and at last to go out. Darkness followed—a
darkness made more frightful by the moans of the
wounded, the fierce panting of those wretches who
still struggled against fate, and the vindictive yell
of the Mohegan and Narragansett warriors, now in
full cry after the dazed and despairing fugitives.<a id="FNanchor_958" href="#Footnote_958" class="fnanchor">[958]</a></p>

<p>At last the sad morning dawned. The dead bodies
of seven hundred<a id="FNanchor_959" href="#Footnote_959" class="fnanchor">[959]</a> Pequods were counted amid<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_385"></a>[385]</span>
the <i lang="fr">débris</i> of the carnage. There lay the whole
nation,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“In one red burial blent.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>But let us turn from the sickening scene. “Never
was a war so just or so necessary,” remarks Palfrey,
“that he who should truly exhibit the details
of its prosecution would not find the sympathy of
gentle hearts deserting him as he proceeded. Between
right policy and the suffering which sometimes
it brings upon individuals, there is a wide
chasm, to be bridged over by an argument with
which the heart does not naturally go. When, for
urgent reasons of public safety, it has been determined
to take the desperate risk of sending the
whole available force of a community into the field
to encounter desperate odds, and certain to be set
on, if worsted, by neutral thousands, the awful conditions
of the venture forbid daintiness in the means
of achieving the victory, or about using it in such a
manner as to veto the chance of incurring the same
peril again. At all events, from the hour of that
fatal carnage Connecticut was secure. There could
now be unguarded sleep in the long-harassed cabins
of the settlers. It might be hoped that civilization
was assured of a permanent abode in New England.”<a id="FNanchor_960" href="#Footnote_960" class="fnanchor">[960]</a></p>

<p>Mason followed up his victory, like an able soldier
as he was. After the fatal night attack, Sassacus<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_386"></a>[386]</span>
and the remnant of his undone tribe fled
westward.<a id="FNanchor_961" href="#Footnote_961" class="fnanchor">[961]</a> They were overtaken, and forced to
fight in a swamp and in a panic. Then there was
another massacre; and two hundred prisoners were
captured, besides a booty of trays, kettles, and wampum.<a id="FNanchor_962" href="#Footnote_962" class="fnanchor">[962]</a>
The Pequod chieftain once more baffled
fate, and with a body of twenty warriors sought an
asylum among the Mohawks, on the banks of the
Hudson, where the unhappy sagamore, bereaved of
people and of country, was himself treacherously
slain, his scalp-lock being sent as a trophy to the
pale-face conquerors.<a id="FNanchor_963" href="#Footnote_963" class="fnanchor">[963]</a></p>

<p>At the same time two other chiefs were hunted
down at a point east of New Haven. Here they
were beheaded; and the spot—now a famous summer
resort—has been called since that day “Sachem’s
Head.”<a id="FNanchor_964" href="#Footnote_964" class="fnanchor">[964]</a></p>

<p>It is sad to relate that this awful slaughter was
crowned by the enslavement of the wretched survivors
of the fight. When Mason returned to Hartford,
bringing the retinue of his command with him,
Massachusetts and Connecticut, needing laborers,
and blind to the injustice, divided the human booty;
and with Rhode Island, which purchased some of
the victims, they must share the guilt.<a id="FNanchor_965" href="#Footnote_965" class="fnanchor">[965]</a> But in this
the Pilgrims did not sin against the spirit of their
age. It was not an insurrection against the conscience<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_387"></a>[387]</span>
of that epoch, for the flagitious practice was
universal. Human slavery had not yet been branded
as infamous amid the scornful execrations of
mankind.</p>

<p>Thus in death and captivity closed the career of
a gallant tribe. They threw themselves before the
chariot-wheels of progress, and were crushed; they
essayed to check God, and were overthrown. Like
ancient Agag, they were hewn in pieces. In its
first warlike bout with barbarism, civilization was
the victor, and went crowned with bays.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_388"></a>[388]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.<br>
<span class="fs80" lang="la">DE PROFUNDIS.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“We have strict statutes and most biting laws,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent32"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>The Pilgrim Fathers were not students of Godefridus
de Valle’s odd book, “<cite lang="la">De Arte Nihil Credendi</cite>”—The
Art of believing Nothing. They did
believe, from the bottom of their hearts; and, in
obedience to Paul, they strove to “hold fast” that
which they esteemed “good.” They had two passions,
devotion to the common weal as citizens, and
to the interests of the church as Christians. “They
regarded themselves, not as individual fugitives
from trans-Atlantic persecution, but rather as confederates
in a political association for religious purposes.”<a id="FNanchor_966" href="#Footnote_966" class="fnanchor">[966]</a>
From this idea their mixed government
naturally evolved; and this, in its turn, gave birth
to the principle that the magistrate was armed with
power to suppress all phases of internal opposition
to the theocracy; because that type of authority
logically carried in its train the necessary conditions
of its perpetuity.</p>

<p>They neither invited nor desired the intrusion
of elements at variance with their ideas; and to
such they said, pointing to the broad continent,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_389"></a>[389]</span>
“There is room; leave us in peace.” And to secure
themselves from molestation, it was enacted,
in 1637, that “none should be received into the jurisdiction
of Massachusetts Bay but such as should
be welcomed by the magistrates”<a id="FNanchor_967" href="#Footnote_967" class="fnanchor">[967]</a>—a provision
somewhat analogous to the alien law of England
and to the European policy of passports.<a id="FNanchor_968" href="#Footnote_968" class="fnanchor">[968]</a></p>

<p>Singularly enough, Massachusetts Bay, spite of
its exclusive policy, possessed from the very outset
a strong charm in the eyes of those who dissented
from its formulas. Like the <i lang="fr">Petit Monsieur</i> who
found himself left out of the tapestry which exhibited
the story of the Spanish invasion, they longed
to work themselves in the hangings of colonial history.
They soon swarmed in Boston and Salem;
and notwithstanding the banishment of Roger Williams,
the “heretics” continued to thrive.</p>

<p>Ere long the public mind “was excited to intense
activity on questions which the nicest subtlety only
could have devised, and which none but those experienced
in the shades of theological opinion could
long comprehend; for it goes with these opinions
as with colors, of which the artist who works in
mosaic easily and regularly discriminates many
thousand varieties, where the common eye can
discern a difference only on the closest comparison.”<a id="FNanchor_969" href="#Footnote_969" class="fnanchor">[969]</a></p>

<p>From this fermentation there bubbled up a profound
and bitter struggle. The strife filled the interstices<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_390"></a>[390]</span>
of the Pequod war, whose prosecution it
sadly crippled; and indeed, at one time it threatened
to rend the colony by civil war.<a id="FNanchor_970" href="#Footnote_970" class="fnanchor">[970]</a></p>

<p>Two distinct parties were early developed. One
was composed chiefly of the older colonists, headed
by Dudley, and Phillips, and Wilson, and Winthrop,
an able coalition of clergymen and politicians.
These were earnest to preserve the state
as it was. They discountenanced innovation, and
“dreaded freedom of opinion as the parent of various
divisions.” They said, “These cracks and flaws
in the new building of the Reformation portend a
fall.”<a id="FNanchor_971" href="#Footnote_971" class="fnanchor">[971]</a> They were anxious “to confirm and build
up the colony, child of their prayers and sorrows;
and for that they desired patriotism, union, and a
common heart.” They dreaded change, because
they knew that,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>The other party was iconoclastic. It was “composed
of men and women who had arrived in New
England after the civil government and religious
discipline of the Pilgrims had been established.”<a id="FNanchor_972" href="#Footnote_972" class="fnanchor">[972]</a>
They felt cramped under the theocracy; and having
come self-banished to the wilderness to enjoy
toleration, they resisted every form of despotism
over the human mind, and “sustained with intense
fanaticism the paramount authority of private judgment.”
“They came,” observes Bancroft, “fresh
from the study of the tenets of Geneva, and their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_391"></a>[391]</span>
pride consisted in following the principles of the
Reformation with logical precision to all their consequences.
Their eyes were not primarily directed
to the institutions of Massachusetts, but to the doctrines
of its religious system; so to them the colonial
clergy seemed ‘the ushers of a new persecution,’
‘a popish faction,’ who had not imbibed the
principles of Christian reform; and they applied to
the influence of the Pilgrim ministers the doctrine
which Luther and Calvin had employed against
the observances and pretensions of the Roman
church.”<a id="FNanchor_973" href="#Footnote_973" class="fnanchor">[973]</a></p>

<p>There is an old Latin proverb,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry" lang="la">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Nulla fere causa est, in quâ non fæmina litem</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Moverit.”<a id="FNanchor_974" href="#Footnote_974" class="fnanchor">[974]</a></div>
</div>
</div>

<p>The life and soul of the crusade against the theocracy
was Anne Hutchinson, whom Johnson styled,
“the chiefest masterpiece of woman’s wit.”<a id="FNanchor_975" href="#Footnote_975" class="fnanchor">[975]</a> Antedating
the Cordays, the Rolands, and the De
Staels by more than a dozen decades, she was the
equal, in tact, and zeal, and honest conviction, of
the best of those brilliant women who, in the <i lang="fr">salons</i>
of the French capital, inspired the revolution of 1793.</p>

<p>Anne Hutchinson was the wife of a Boston merchant,
the daughter of a Puritan preacher in England,
and had been one of John Cotton’s most devoted
parishioners ere he was driven into exile.<a id="FNanchor_976" href="#Footnote_976" class="fnanchor">[976]</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_392"></a>[392]</span>
In 1634 she followed that eminent divine to America,
and was received into his church at Boston,<a id="FNanchor_977" href="#Footnote_977" class="fnanchor">[977]</a>
spite of some strange theories which she had avowed
on shipboard.<a id="FNanchor_978" href="#Footnote_978" class="fnanchor">[978]</a> Her active benevolence and unflagging
kindness to the sick soon wedded to her many
hearts.<a id="FNanchor_979" href="#Footnote_979" class="fnanchor">[979]</a> She planted herself deep in the affections
of the city.</p>

<p>The male members of the Boston church had a
habit of taking notes of the sermon on Sunday, and
then holding week-day meetings for the recapitulation
and discussion of the doctrines advanced<a id="FNanchor_980" href="#Footnote_980" class="fnanchor">[980]</a>—a
very commendable practice. Mrs. Hutchinson,
thinking perhaps that woman’s influence and intellect
were not sufficiently recognized in the church,
inaugurated a similar series of week-day conventicles
for the ladies of Boston.<a id="FNanchor_981" href="#Footnote_981" class="fnanchor">[981]</a></p>

<p>Mrs. Hutchinson’s lectures—for she was ever
the chief speaker—attracted crowds, and they were
countenanced by Sir Harry Vane, who then occupied
the gubernatorial chair, and by his host, John
Cotton;<a id="FNanchor_982" href="#Footnote_982" class="fnanchor">[982]</a> below whom stood a crowd of warm adherents,
flanked by John Wheelwright the clerical
brother-in-law of the lady speaker, and by the hearty
influence of John Coddington one of the wealthiest
of the colonists.<a id="FNanchor_983" href="#Footnote_983" class="fnanchor">[983]</a> “Thus the women,” says Cotton
Mather, “like their first mother, hooked in the
husbands also.”<a id="FNanchor_984" href="#Footnote_984" class="fnanchor">[984]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_393"></a>[393]</span></p>

<p>Soon the vigorous and daring mind of Anne
Hutchinson struck off new watchwords. Much was
said of a “Covenant of Works” and a “Covenant
of Grace,” and between these many fine distinctions
were made. “Under these heads she and her
friends classified the preachers of the Bay. Those
who were understood to rely upon a methodical
and rigid observance of their religious duties as
evidence of acceptance with God were said to be
‘under a covenant of works.’ Those who held to
certain spiritual tenets were ranged ‘under the
covenant of grace.’ These phrases began to be
banded to and fro. ‘Justification’ and ‘sanctification’
were in all mouths; even children jeered each
other; and there was no stemming the heady current
of discussion as it swept on.”<a id="FNanchor_985" href="#Footnote_985" class="fnanchor">[985]</a></p>

<p>Winthrop and his coadjutors looked upon the
debate with equal horror and alarm. Two words,
which were then common, expressed to them a
vague but frightful danger; <em>Antinomianism</em> was
one, and <em>Familism</em> was the other. The <em>Antinomians</em>
were a sect of German extraction, and their
name meant <em>against the Law</em>; for they held that
“the gospel of Christ had superseded the law of
Moses.”<a id="FNanchor_986" href="#Footnote_986" class="fnanchor">[986]</a> But the word had been made the shelter
of sad excesses and many base acts, so that it was
in bad odor among the Pilgrims, who esteemed Antinomianism
to be a cloak to cover the naked form
of license.<a id="FNanchor_987" href="#Footnote_987" class="fnanchor">[987]</a></p>

<p><em>Familism</em> had been nursed into vicious life in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_394"></a>[394]</span>
Holland; where, in 1555, Henry Nicholas formed a
“Family of Love,” who, in their opinions, “grieved
the Comforter, charging all their sins on God’s
Spirit, for not effectually assisting them against
themselves.”<a id="FNanchor_988" href="#Footnote_988" class="fnanchor">[988]</a> The Familists had long been numerous,
factious, and dangerous, in England, and their
practice was even worse than their doctrine; for
their laxity of morals made them the sappers of
social order.<a id="FNanchor_989" href="#Footnote_989" class="fnanchor">[989]</a></p>

<p>Anne Hutchinson does not seem to have been
inoculated with the virus of Familism; but she was,
of course, an Antinomian, since she assailed the
theocratic law; and therefore, to the heated minds
of the Pilgrims, she might easily appear to be the
fleshly tabernacle of both—the incarnation of heresy.</p>

<p>Meantime the debate grew in bitterness. Mrs.
Hutchinson, when taunted with Familism and Antinomianism,
retorted by nicknaming her foes <em>Legalists</em>;
“because,” she said, “you are acquainted neither
with the spirit of the gospel nor with Christ
himself.”<a id="FNanchor_990" href="#Footnote_990" class="fnanchor">[990]</a> Boston echoed the phrase with wild
delight, and “Legalist! Legalist! Legalist!” was
dinned into the ears of the clergy of the Bay.</p>

<p>Winthrop and his friends were exasperated, and
they invoked the courts to interfere. Several of the
Antinomians were heavily fined.<a id="FNanchor_991" href="#Footnote_991" class="fnanchor">[991]</a> Wheelwright,
who, in a fast-day sermon, had strenuously maintained<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_395"></a>[395]</span>
the Antinomian tenets, was formally censured
by the General Court for sedition.<a id="FNanchor_992" href="#Footnote_992" class="fnanchor">[992]</a></p>

<p>Then the innovators were, in their turn, angered.
“The fear of God and the love of neighbors was
laid by;” Mrs. Hutchinson and her adherents clamored
all the louder; and Vane, disgusted and dispirited,
tendered his resignation, and craved permission
to return to England;<a id="FNanchor_993" href="#Footnote_993" class="fnanchor">[993]</a> but “the expostulations
of the Boston church finally turned him from
his design,” and kept him at his post.<a id="FNanchor_994" href="#Footnote_994" class="fnanchor">[994]</a></p>

<p>Meanwhile Wheelwright, provoked at his censure,
had appealed to England. This wrecked
Vane’s administration, and ruined the Antinomian
cause; for the patriotic feeling of the colony ran so
high, that “it was accounted perjury and treason to
appeal to the king.”<a id="FNanchor_995" href="#Footnote_995" class="fnanchor">[995]</a> In the elections of 1637 public
opinion was made manifest; Winthrop, with the
towns and the churches at his back, outvoted Vane,
whose sole support was Boston, and the fathers of
the colony once more grasped the helm.<a id="FNanchor_996" href="#Footnote_996" class="fnanchor">[996]</a></p>

<p>Winthrop originated, enacted, and defended the
alien law.<a id="FNanchor_997" href="#Footnote_997" class="fnanchor">[997]</a> This found in Vane an inflexible opponent;
and, using the language of the time, he left a
memorial of his dissent. “Scribes and Pharisees,
and such as are confirmed in any way of error”—these
are the remarkable words of the man who
soon embarked for England, where he afterwards<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_396"></a>[396]</span>
pleaded in Parliament for the liberties of all classes
of dissenters—“all such are not to be denied cohabitation,
but are to be pitied and reformed. Ishmael
shall dwell in the presence of his brethren.”<a id="FNanchor_998" href="#Footnote_998" class="fnanchor">[998]</a></p>

<p>Now that the founders of the colony had emerged
from their brief eclipse and regained their pristine
influence, they decided to initiate measures which
should definitely silence the unseemly “noise about
the temple.” An ecclesiastical synod was convened.<a id="FNanchor_999" href="#Footnote_999" class="fnanchor">[999]</a>
Assembling in the summer of 1637, it
branded eighty-two opinions then in vogue as heretical,
and summoned Anne Hutchinson, Wheelwright,
and others of that “ilk,” to their bar for
examination.<a id="FNanchor_1000" href="#Footnote_1000" class="fnanchor">[1000]</a></p>

<p>They appeared; and Cotton, who had satisfied
his brother clergymen of his orthodoxy, tainted for
a space by his connection with the Antinomians,
was set to examine Mrs. Hutchinson; “which was
hard for him to do, and bitter for her to endure;
for she had been his <i lang="fr">protégé</i>.”<a id="FNanchor_1001" href="#Footnote_1001" class="fnanchor">[1001]</a></p>

<p>This remarkable woman was now in her element.
She was calm, and she was firm, and she was keen;
for,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent4">“Spirits are not finely touched</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">But to fine issues.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p class="noindent">But one bold avowal sealed her doom. “We have,”
she said, “a new rule of practice by immediate revelations;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_397"></a>[397]</span>
by these we guide our conduct. Not that
we expect any revelation in the way of a miracle;
that is a delusion; but we despise the anathemas
of your synods and courts, and will still follow the
whisperings of conscience.”<a id="FNanchor_1002" href="#Footnote_1002" class="fnanchor">[1002]</a></p>

<p>This speech caused wide-spread alarm. It
seemed to squint towards anarchy. “The true
parents of the brats began to discover themselves,”
quaintly comments old Mather, “when the synod
lifted the sword upon them.”<a id="FNanchor_1003" href="#Footnote_1003" class="fnanchor">[1003]</a> An insurrection of
lawless fanatics, “like a Munster tragedy,” seemed
brewing. The magistrates decided that the danger
was desperate; that Anne Hutchinson was “like
Roger Williams, or worse;”<a id="FNanchor_1004" href="#Footnote_1004" class="fnanchor">[1004]</a> and so, says Winthrop,
“we applied the last remedy, and that without
delay.”<a id="FNanchor_1005" href="#Footnote_1005" class="fnanchor">[1005]</a></p>

<p>Anne Hutchinson, Wheelwright, and Aspinwall,
were solemnly exiled as “unfit for the society” of
the Pilgrims; and those of their followers who
remained were ordered to deliver up their arms,
lest they should, “upon some revelation, make a
sudden insurrection.”<a id="FNanchor_1006" href="#Footnote_1006" class="fnanchor">[1006]</a></p>

<p>Thus ended the <i lang="la">ecclesiarum prælia</i>.<a id="FNanchor_1007" href="#Footnote_1007" class="fnanchor">[1007]</a> “And
thus,” says Cotton Mather, “was the hydra beheaded—<i lang="la">hydra
decapitata</i>.”<a id="FNanchor_1008" href="#Footnote_1008" class="fnanchor">[1008]</a> “This legislation
may be reproved for its jealousy, but not for its
cruelty; for it condemned the “heretics” to a banishment<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_398"></a>[398]</span>
not more severe than many of the best of
the Pilgrims had encountered from choice.” But
it is a sad chapter; and perhaps the old divine was
right when he wrote, “What these errors were ’tis
needless now to repeat; they are dead and gone,
and buried past resurrection; ’tis a pity to strive
to rake them from their graves.”<a id="FNanchor_1009" href="#Footnote_1009" class="fnanchor">[1009]</a></p>

<p>The exiles, followed by great numbers of proselytes,
on quitting Massachusetts Bay, wandered
southward, “designing to plant a settlement on
Long Island, or near Delaware Bay. But Roger
Williams welcomed them to his vicinity,” and obtained
for them a resting-place. They colonized
Rhode Island, or <em>Aquitneck</em>, as it was then called.
“It was not price nor money that got Rhode Island,”
wrote Williams; “it was gotten by <em>love</em>; by
the love and favor which that honorable gentleman,
Sir Harry Vane, and myself, had with that great
sachem, Miantonomoh.”<a id="FNanchor_1010" href="#Footnote_1010" class="fnanchor">[1010]</a></p>

<p>Being thus held by the same tenure that Providence
owned, Aquitneck was based upon the self-same
principle of intellectual liberty; and though
the two were not united in one state until after the
Restoration, they clasped hands in equal brotherhood,
and were buoyed by toleration.</p>

<p>Thus the principles of Anne Hutchinson, thrown
out of Massachusetts, sprouted in Rhode Island,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_399"></a>[399]</span>
and grew a well-ordered, sober state. A happy
result flowed from an unhappy cause.</p>

<p>And now for a season internecine strife was
hushed. All eyes were directed across the water.
“The angels of the trans-Atlantic churches, sounding
forth their silver trumpets, heard the sound of
rattling drums” on every European breeze.<a id="FNanchor_1011" href="#Footnote_1011" class="fnanchor">[1011]</a> Democracy
was about to assert itself in England. The
Pilgrim Fathers grasped hands, and silently marked
the lesson; which was, that “courtiers, bishops, and
kings, too, have a joint in their necks.”</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_400"></a>[400]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.<br>
<span class="fs80">THE CHART AND THE PILOTS.</span></h2>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“And sovereign law, the state’s collected will,</div>
    <div class="verse indent2">O’er thrones and globes elate,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent26"><span class="smcap">Sir William Jones.</span></div>
</div>
</div>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“To do the genteel deeds—that makes the gentleman.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent36"><span class="smcap">Chaucer.</span></div>
</div>
</div>


<p>’Tis a trite saying, that legislation reflects character.
The penal code of a state mirrors the culture,
the thought, and the habits of its citizens; because
laws grow from men’s exigencies. Of course,
the Pilgrims had a legal chart, and they wrote its
quaint characters in the ink of their peculiarities.
Unlike our statute-book, it made no fine distinctions
and it used no legal fictions, but was very
simple and very plain; results due to the primitive
social customs of the colonies, to the lack of lawyers,
and to the constant effort to avoid litigation;
for in those days they did not mean</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent4">——“With subtle cobweb cheats,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">To catch in knotted law, like nets;</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">In which, when men are once imbrangled,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The more they stir, the more they’re tangled.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>The founders of New England had little sympathy
with, and made no provision for, legal legerdemain.
They were much too earnest and honest to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_401"></a>[401]</span>
admire that kind of justice which Pope has satirized:</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indentq">“Once—says an author, where I need not say—</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Two travellers found an oyster in their way:</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Both fierce, both hungry, the dispute grew strong,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">When, scale in hand, dame Justice passed along.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Before her each with clamor pleads the laws,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Explains the matter, and would win the cause.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Dame Justice, weighing long the doubtful right,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Takes, opens, swallows it, before their sight.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">The cause of strife removed so rarely well,</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">‘There take’—says Justice—‘take you each a shell.</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">We thrive at Westminster on fools like you:</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">’Twas a fat oyster—live in peace—adieu.’”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>But while the Pilgrims knew nothing of law as
a vehicle for quarrels to ride on and for trickery to
drive, they made use of it as a bit to curb disorder.
“Some of their enactments exhibit profound wisdom,
sagacity, and forecast; others show their
strong attachment to the precepts of the Bible; and
still others descend to matters of such trivial nature
as to appear puerile; yet of these it may be said
that they are preventive. The Pilgrims believed in
nipping crime in the bud. The things forbidden
may have been, in themselves, comparatively unimportant;
but their influence, if unchecked, might
have led to gross offences. By destroying the seed
of wickedness, they labored to prevent the fruits.”<a id="FNanchor_1012" href="#Footnote_1012" class="fnanchor">[1012]</a></p>

<p>Very evidently the colonists were not free traders,
for, three years after the landing at Plymouth
Rock, a protective law was passed, by which it was
enacted that “no handicraftsmen, as shoemakers,
tailors, carpenters, joiners, smiths, and sawyers, belonging<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_402"></a>[402]</span>
to this plantation, shall work for any strangers
and foreigners until the domestic necessities
be served.”<a id="FNanchor_1013" href="#Footnote_1013" class="fnanchor">[1013]</a> And at the same time, in order to
prevent the return of a famine which had repeatedly
visited them, it was enacted that “until farther
orders, no corn, beans, or peas, be exported, under
penalty of a confiscation of such exports.”<a id="FNanchor_1014" href="#Footnote_1014" class="fnanchor">[1014]</a></p>

<p>Marriage was held to be a civil contract,<a id="FNanchor_1015" href="#Footnote_1015" class="fnanchor">[1015]</a> and
the intention to marry was to be published fourteen
days, including three Sabbaths, before the union,
and was then to be consummated only on the consent
of the parents or guardian of the lady, if she
were under “parental covert.”<a id="FNanchor_1016" href="#Footnote_1016" class="fnanchor">[1016]</a></p>

<p>Denial of the Scriptures as the rule of life, was
an indictable offence, and was punishable by whipping;
so were violations of the Sabbath, the neglecting
of public worship, and slander.<a id="FNanchor_1017" href="#Footnote_1017" class="fnanchor">[1017]</a> Once a
Miss Boulton, on conviction of slander, was condemned
to the humiliating punishment of sitting in
the stocks, with a paper fastened to her breast on
which were written the details of her offence in capital
letters.<a id="FNanchor_1018" href="#Footnote_1018" class="fnanchor">[1018]</a> At another time, two men were similarly
dealt with for having disturbed a meeting;<a id="FNanchor_1019" href="#Footnote_1019" class="fnanchor">[1019]</a>
and this same court also “sharply reproved John
Whitson for writing a note on common business on
the Lord’s day.”<a id="FNanchor_1020" href="#Footnote_1020" class="fnanchor">[1020]</a> Women who abused their husbands
or who struck their fathers-in-law, were fined
or whipped at the option of the magistrate.<a id="FNanchor_1021" href="#Footnote_1021" class="fnanchor">[1021]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_403"></a>[403]</span></p>

<p>Very odd and very arbitrary all this seems to
us; but it came naturally from the theocratic idea,
which subordinated every other interest to religion.
And with all its singularities, it must be confessed
that the Pilgrim code was, as a whole and at that
time, adapted to secure a higher moral character to
the community than would have been attained by
the naturalization of the then existing laws of any
other people.<a id="FNanchor_1022" href="#Footnote_1022" class="fnanchor">[1022]</a></p>

<p>Occasionally, “whales used to be driven ashore,
whereupon the Pilgrims would obtain oil from
them. Ere long it was ordained that when such an
incident occurred, or when any whale was cut up at
sea and brought into port, one full hogshead of oil
should be paid to the state;”<a id="FNanchor_1023" href="#Footnote_1023" class="fnanchor">[1023]</a> and this was the first
impost, from which have grown the custom-houses
of our age.</p>

<p>The court which framed this law also proposed,
“as a thing very commendable and beneficial to the
towns where God’s providence cast whales, that all
should agree to set apart some portion of such fish
or oil for the encouragement of an able, godly ministry.”<a id="FNanchor_1024" href="#Footnote_1024" class="fnanchor">[1024]</a></p>

<p>But the chief strength of New England lay in
the Puritan homes. These were the nurseries of
Christian freemen. Good could hardly fail to result
when “parents were required to see that their children
were taught to read the Scriptures and to recite
some short orthodox catechism, without the book;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_404"></a>[404]</span>
and when they ‘brought up’ their families to some
honest calling that made them useful to themselves
and to the commonwealth.”</p>

<p>The New England towns were perfect democracies.
“Their formation was promoted by the dread
of, and danger from, Indians, and also by the demand
for churches and schools. The settlers, therefore,
did not scatter widely upon large plantations,
but collected in villages, with their farms around
them. The town-meetings were held annually—usually
in the spring—and every voter was expected
to be present to take his part in the direction of
affairs; this was looked upon as a chief duty; and
it was held that a man who would not use his liberty
and do this duty was no good citizen. The
roll of voters was often called, and the absentees
were each fined eighteen pence. At first they met
in the church; but eventually each town provided
itself with a town-house, in which to conduct its business
and hold its courts. When the meetings came
to order, some grave and good citizen was chosen
moderator. Then the town business was brought
up in order. Motions were made, briefly debated,
and voted upon. Matters passed at one meeting
were often reversed at a subsequent one, and the
minutes read, ‘Undone next meeting.’ The voters
granted lands, established and repaired mills, roads,
and ferries, and took order as to clearing commons,
paying the schoolmaster, raising the salary of the
minister, and electing deputies to the General Court.
In every town from three to seven ‘prudential men,’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_405"></a>[405]</span>
afterwards called ‘select men,’ were appointed to
administer the town affairs between the annual
meetings; and these held petty courts, decided minor
cases, and acted as referees in most disputes.
Such was the nursing on which these states grew
up a congeries of towns, true and strong and free.”<a id="FNanchor_1025" href="#Footnote_1025" class="fnanchor">[1025]</a></p>

<p>Among the many peculiarities of the Pilgrim Fathers,
perhaps the oddest trait was either their lack
of ambition or their sober sense of the responsibilities
of office, whose honors and emoluments so little
tempted them, that even the position of governor
went begging. Indeed, they had to be pricked up
to their duty by statute; for in 1632 it was provided
that if any one should refuse to sit in the gubernatorial
chair, after election, he should be fined twenty
pounds.<a id="FNanchor_1026" href="#Footnote_1026" class="fnanchor">[1026]</a> Winthrop, under the year 1633, makes
this record: “This year, Mr. Edward Winslow was
elected governor of Plymouth, and Mr. Bradford,
having been governor about ten years, <em>now got off by
importunity</em>.”<a id="FNanchor_1027" href="#Footnote_1027" class="fnanchor">[1027]</a></p>

<p>How much happier we are in our age, for now-a-days
thousands of devoted patriots are perfectly
willing to lay their privacy upon the altar of their
country by accepting any office, from a snuggery in
the custom-house to the presidency of the Republic.
They only beg to be used. Men no longer cite
that speech of the father of Themistocles, who, in
attempting to dissuade his son from government,
showed him the old, discarded oars which the Grecian<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_406"></a>[406]</span>
mariners had thrown away upon the sea-shore,
and said: “See; the people will certainly treat their
old rulers with the same contempt.”</p>

<p>But if the Pilgrims did not accept office readily,
they did not hold it lightly. No; they were real
rulers, not cockades masquerading in the garb of
authority. They took high views of their duties,
and believed with Agapetus, that “the loftier the
station one reaches in the government, the truer
should be his devotion to the service of God;”<a id="FNanchor_1028" href="#Footnote_1028" class="fnanchor">[1028]</a> and
they were sensible of what Cotton Mather styles
that “great stroke” of Cicero: “<i lang="la">Nullâ re propiùs
hominas ad Deum accedunt, quam salutem hominibus
dando</i>”—men approach nearest to the character of
God in doing good to mankind.</p>

<p>“The word <em>government</em> properly signifies the
<em>guidance of a ship</em>. Tully uses it in that sense; and
in Plutarch the art of steering a vessel is called <em>government</em>.<a id="FNanchor_1029" href="#Footnote_1029" class="fnanchor">[1029]</a>
New England is a little ship that has
weathered many storms, and it is but fair that those
who have stood at the helm of the ship should be
remembered in its story.” Let us mention one or
two of these honored pilots.</p>

<p>With William Bradford, the eldest of the New
England governors, we are already acquainted.
Born in 1588, he had come to America in the prime
of his life, and devoted himself to God and the common weal.
He was “looked on as a common blessing
and father to all,” and he lived long enough to see<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_407"></a>[407]</span>
those high hopes with which he had embarked in
the “Mayflower” more than realized; for the wilderness
refuge was thronged and prosperous beyond
his wildest dreams.<a id="FNanchor_1030" href="#Footnote_1030" class="fnanchor">[1030]</a> He was fully appreciated at
Plymouth; and with the exception of five years’
respite, when he “got off” by his “importunity,”
he was reëlected governor with annual regularity
until death promoted him to a higher station.<a id="FNanchor_1031" href="#Footnote_1031" class="fnanchor">[1031]</a></p>

<p>Bradford’s administration of affairs as connected
with the many vexatious questions arising from the
difficulty with the Merchant-adventurers and with
the English partners of the “Undertakers,” was a
model of firmness, wisdom, patience, forbearance,
and energy. So also in his benevolent determination
to bring over the rest of the Leyden exiles at
whatever cost, he showed the fineness and beauty
of his character. “Under the pressure of misfortune,
his example was a star of hope, for he never
yielded to despondency; and while, with Brewster,
he threw the Pilgrims upon God for support and
provision, he never neglected to set in motion every
possible instrumentality for procuring supplies.”<a id="FNanchor_1032" href="#Footnote_1032" class="fnanchor">[1032]</a>
Patient, sagacious, devout, heroic, he was the very
ideal of a Christian ruler.</p>

<p>We are assured by Cotton Mather that Bradford
was “a person for study as well as for action; and
hence, notwithstanding the difficulties through which
he passed in his boyhood, he attained a notable
skill in languages. The Dutch tongue was almost<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_408"></a>[408]</span>
as vernacular to him as the English; the French he
could also manage; the Latin and the Greek he had
mastered; but the Hebrew he most of all studied,
‘Because,’ he said, ‘I would see with my own eyes
the ancient oracles of God in their native beauty.’
He was also well skilled in history, in antiquity, and
in philosophy; and for theology, he became so versed
in it, that he was an irrefragable disputant.”<a id="FNanchor_1033" href="#Footnote_1033" class="fnanchor">[1033]</a></p>

<p>But the crown of his shining life was not his
genius in executive affairs, or the journal which he
has bequeathed to us as a record of the cost at
which he built at Plymouth Rock; it was “his holy,
prayerful, fruitful walk with God,” and this made
him, in a better sense than Plato meant,</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent0">“The shepherd-guardian of his human fold.”</div>
</div>
</div>

<p>Bradford’s immediate successors at Plymouth
were Edward Winslow and Thomas Prince, men of
the same mould, and whose lives exhaled the self-same
fragrance. “Where the rulers are Christians
the state prospers,” was the old proverb, and in
their case it was once more verified.</p>

<p>John Winthrop was the foremost man in Massachusetts.
He was educated, he was gentlemanly,
and he had been rich, but he spent his fortune “in
the furtherance of God’s work,” bidding his son not
mourn for it, but “certainly expect a liberal portion
in the prosperity and blessing of the future.”<a id="FNanchor_1034" href="#Footnote_1034" class="fnanchor">[1034]</a> He
was a man of much gentleness and amiability; and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_409"></a>[409]</span>
“his private life was charming” as it crops out in
his exquisite letters to his wife, who remained for a
time in England.<a id="FNanchor_1035" href="#Footnote_1035" class="fnanchor">[1035]</a></p>

<p>He carried his admirable temper into public life.
He had always an open hand of charity. When
Roger Williams was banished, he wrote him privately
to sustain and encourage him, and even suggested
Narragansett Bay as a safe asylum.<a id="FNanchor_1036" href="#Footnote_1036" class="fnanchor">[1036]</a> He
was always inclined to lenient ways; and when in
his later days he was asked to sign an order for the
banishment of an offending minister, he declined,
remarking: “No, I have done too much of that
already.”<a id="FNanchor_1037" href="#Footnote_1037" class="fnanchor">[1037]</a> With this natural bent towards liberality,
it was only with extreme reluctance that he yielded
to the imperious spirit of intolerance which then
reigned.</p>

<p>As governor, he was prudent, patient, courageous,
and energetic—traits which made him the
successful pilot of the ship of state in the unchartered
waters on which he floated.</p>

<p>Winthrop never disdained to share equally with
his brother Pilgrims. It is related of him that once,
in a famine, he divided his last peck of meal with a
hungry man, and was only not gnawed by hunger
himself, because a ship entered Salem harbor ere
night with a well-stocked larder, and changed the
fast which had been appointed for the next day into
a thanksgiving.<a id="FNanchor_1038" href="#Footnote_1038" class="fnanchor">[1038]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_410"></a>[410]</span></p>

<p>He knew how to conquer hearts by kindness. One
hard winter, complaint was made to him that a man
stole regularly to his woodpile and abstracted fuel.
“Does he?” asked Winthrop; “send him to me; I’ll
cure him.” The quaking wretch was brought in and
expected to hear a rigorous sentence. “Friend,”
said he, “it is a cold winter, and I fear you are but
poorly provided with wood to meet it. You are
welcome to supply yourself at my pile till winter is
over.”<a id="FNanchor_1039" href="#Footnote_1039" class="fnanchor">[1039]</a></p>

<p>Winthrop’s “religion shone out through all his
life, and gave a higher lustre to his character. He
was zealous for truth and righteousness. Often he
bore witness to the minister in the midst of the congregation;
and frequently he visited the neighboring
towns to prophesy, as it was called, or as we
say, exhort. He had admirers not only in America,
but in England and at court. ‘’Tis a pity,’ remarked
Charles I., ‘that such a worthy gentleman
should have banished himself to the hardships of a
wilderness life.’”<a id="FNanchor_1040" href="#Footnote_1040" class="fnanchor">[1040]</a></p>

<p>In Massachusetts the colonists believed in rotation
in office; consequently, Winthrop was often
displaced from the gubernatorial chair, and then
replaced again. He always filled the post with
dignity and with untarnished honor; so that on his
death at sixty, worn out by toil and care, he might
have torn his books of account, as Scipio Africanus
did, and said: “A flourishing colony has been led
out and settled under my direction. I have spent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_411"></a>[411]</span>
my fortune and myself in its service. Waste no
more time in harangues, but give thanks to God.”<a id="FNanchor_1041" href="#Footnote_1041" class="fnanchor">[1041]</a></p>

<p>Winthrop’s great rival in influence and position
was stern Thomas Dudley. His views corresponded
far more completely with the theocratic formulas
than did those of his mild and somewhat pliant
friend. Dudley was bold, aggressive, and dogmatic;
and he frequently quarrelled with Winthrop, because
that statesman would not hack dissenters
with his harsh hatchet, but was cautious, and temporizing,
and conciliatory, alike from temperament
and from discipline. He was always chosen deputy
when Winthrop was elected governor; and on several
occasions he held the chief office himself. “He
was a man of sound sense, sterling integrity, and
uncompromising faith. He was rigid in his religious
opinions, and urged the strictest enforcement
of the sedition laws. He considered that the various
opinions that were struggling to manifest themselves
from time to time tended to licentiousness;
and he was desirous that his epitaph should be—‘I
died no libertine.’”<a id="FNanchor_1042" href="#Footnote_1042" class="fnanchor">[1042]</a> To paint him in a word,
Dudley was an upright and downright man—a
“piece of living justice.”</p>

<p>Sir Harry Vane did not tarry long in New England;
arriving in 1635, he went home in 1637 to
lend his name and brains to the dawning revolution,
and to carve his spirit on the marble of the
ages. But short as was his sojourn on the west of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_412"></a>[412]</span>
the Atlantic, he stayed long enough to achieve wide
honor and to leave plain traces of his genius. He,
too, was a Pilgrim, and “it is a singular fact in the
history of New England, that, among her pioneers,
were such men as Vane, well born, well bred, and
able to command a splendid career at home.”<a id="FNanchor_1043" href="#Footnote_1043" class="fnanchor">[1043]</a></p>

<p>“Sir Henry Vane the younger,” remarks Bancroft,
“was a man of the purest mind, and a statesman
of the rarest integrity, whose name the progress
of intelligence and liberty will erase from the rubric
of fanatics and traitors, and insert high among the
aspirants after truth and the martyrs for liberty.
Almost in his boyhood he had valued the ‘obedience
of the gospel’ more than the successful career of
English diplomacy, and he cheerfully ‘forsook the
preferments of the court of Charles for the ordinances
of religion in their purity in New England.’”<a id="FNanchor_1044" href="#Footnote_1044" class="fnanchor">[1044]</a></p>

<p>While here he was the warm friend of Roger
Williams and Anne Hutchinson; and when he went
home he carried back with him the same ardor for
Christian truth which had impelled him to grasp
hands with Winthrop in the wilderness. He had a
heart, and “he was happy in the possession of an
admirable genius, though naturally more inclined to
contemplative excellence than to action. He was
happy, too, in the eulogist of his virtues; for Milton,
ever parsimonious of praise, reserving the majesty
of his verse to celebrate the glories and vindicate
the providence of God, was lavish of his encomiums
on the youthful friend of religious liberty. But<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_413"></a>[413]</span>
Vane was still more happy in attaining early in life
a firmly-settled theory of morals, and in possessing
an energetic will, which made all his conduct to the
very last conform to the doctrines he had espoused,
turning his dying hour into a seal of witness, which
his life had ever borne with noble consistency to
the freedom of conscience and the people. ‘If he
were not superior to Hampden,’ says Clarendon, ‘he
was inferior to no other man;’ ‘his whole life made
good the imagination that there was in him something
extraordinary.’”<a id="FNanchor_1045" href="#Footnote_1045" class="fnanchor">[1045]</a></p>

<p>Bluff John Endicott was another of the famous
characters whose names and fame are impressed on
the vellum of colonial history. He is said to have
been perhaps the finest specimen of the genuine
Puritan character to be found among the early governors.
“He was quick of temper, with strong religious
feelings; resolute to uphold with the sword
what he had received as gospel truth; and feared
no enemy so much as a gainsaying spirit. He tore
the cross out of the English flag, cut down the May-pole
at Merry-Mount, rakish Morton’s sometime
den, published his detestation of long hair in a formal
proclamation, and set dissenters in the pillory.
Inferior to Winthrop in learning—in comprehension
to Vane—in tolerance even to Dudley—he
excelled them all in the keen eye to discern the fit
moment for action, in the quick resolve to profit by
it, and in the hand always ready to strike.”<a id="FNanchor_1046" href="#Footnote_1046" class="fnanchor">[1046]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_414"></a>[414]</span></p>

<p>These are a few of the central figures, the pivotal
men, of the first half dozen Pilgrim decades in
New England. There are many more almost equally
eminent and worthy of immortal honor—Bradstreet,
and Hopkins, and Eaton, and the younger
Winthrop. Here is an <i lang="fr">embarras des richesses</i>, and
neither time nor space serves to name the lengthened
list of worthies who lent lustre and dignity to
the colonial annals. The best of them were the
peers of the first men of any age or country; and
the worst more than met the requirements of the
Latins in their rulers: “The Roman people,” says
Cicero, “selected their magistrates as if they were
to be stewards of the republic. Proficiency in other
departments, if it existed, they gladly tolerated;
but if such additional accomplishments were lacking,
they were content with the virtue and honesty
of their public servants.”<a id="FNanchor_1047" href="#Footnote_1047" class="fnanchor">[1047]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrim governors were at least all honest,
and virtuous, and true; and they would have pleased
those Thebans who made the statues of their judges
without hands, importing that they were no takers,
for these men too were guiltless of handling bribes.
God blessed colonial New England rarely when he
sent her such men as a benediction. But they are
gone—Bradford, and Winthrop, and Carver, and
Dudley, and Vane, and Endicott.</p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
    <div class="verse indent18">——“Woe the day!</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">How mingles mightiest dust with meanest clay.”</div>
</div>
</div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_415"></a>[415]</span></p>

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.<br>
<span class="fs80">EUREKA.</span></h2>

<div class="blockquot">

<p>“Like one who had set out on his way by night, and travelled
through a region of smooth or idle dreams, our history now arrives
on the confines, where daylight and truth meet us with a clear
dawn, representing to our view, though at far distance, true colors
and shapes.”</p>

<p class="right">
<span class="smcap">Milton</span>, <cite>History of England</cite>.</p>
</div>


<p>When Great Britain, looking through the eyes
of the Long Parliament in 1641, glanced across the
Atlantic, she was surprised to see that the despised
bantling of 1620 had, against all discouragements,
staggered to its feet, and stood a nation, self-sustaining,
robust, independent.</p>

<p>Already twenty-one thousand Pilgrims were permanently
seated in New England;<a id="FNanchor_1048" href="#Footnote_1048" class="fnanchor">[1048]</a> fifty prosperous
villages<a id="FNanchor_1049" href="#Footnote_1049" class="fnanchor">[1049]</a> peeped from the openings in the long
unbroken forests. The steeples of forty churches
pointed their white fingers to the sky.<a id="FNanchor_1050" href="#Footnote_1050" class="fnanchor">[1050]</a> The rude
log-cabins of the first months of settlement had
been replaced by well-built houses.<a id="FNanchor_1051" href="#Footnote_1051" class="fnanchor">[1051]</a> Agriculture
climbed the hill-sides. Commerce played by the
sea-shore. Trade laughed and chaffed and dickered
in the market-place. The spindle and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_416"></a>[416]</span>
loom nodded merrily to each other over their work,
as they labored side by side in the fabrication of
“cotton and woollen and linen cloth;” for manufactures
were even thus early established in New England.<a id="FNanchor_1052" href="#Footnote_1052" class="fnanchor">[1052]</a></p>

<p>And the Pilgrims had a foreign influence. When
a Madeira merchant visited Boston in 1642, he told
Winthrop that the West Indian Jesuits taught that
the “New-Englanders were the worst of all heretics,
and that they were the cause of the civil war in the
British island, and of the downfall of Archbishop
Laud.”<a id="FNanchor_1053" href="#Footnote_1053" class="fnanchor">[1053]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims in England cordially recognized
their kinship to the exiles. When the Parliament
held regal prerogatives, in 1641, the colonists
were urgently advised to solicit the admission of
their delegates to its floor. “But upon consulting
about it,” says Winthrop, “we declined the motion,
for this consideration, that if we should put ourselves
under the protection of the Parliament, we
should then be subject to all its laws, or at least to
such as the Commons might be pleased to impose
on us; which might be inconvenient, and prove
very prejudicial to us.”<a id="FNanchor_1054" href="#Footnote_1054" class="fnanchor">[1054]</a> And when, a twelvemonth
later, “letters arrived inviting the colonial
churches to send representatives to the Westminster
Assembly of Divines, the same sagacity led
them to neglect the invitation. The love of political
independence declined even benefits. New<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_417"></a>[417]</span>
England spoke almost as one sovereign to another.”<a id="FNanchor_1055" href="#Footnote_1055" class="fnanchor">[1055]</a></p>

<p>The Pilgrims were singularly jealous of their
franchises, and they never neglected an opportunity
to consolidate and enlarge their liberty. And now,
since the days had come when England was rent
by the demon of war, when the throne tottered to
its fall, when exultant republicanism, speaking
through the lips of Cromwell, shouted, “<i lang="la">Sic semper
tyrannis!</i>” as the head of a royal despot was struck
off, the colonists had ample time in which to develop
and define their rights.</p>

<p>Thus, exciting and momentous as were the scenes
enacted on the European stage, and deeply as the
Forefathers were interested in the issue, they were
not won to overlook their own home drama. They
were busy at this very time in reaping the benefits
of secure and liberal domestic legislation. A bill
of rights was promulgated; and under this, “though
universal suffrage was not established, every man,
whether citizen or alien, received the right of introducing
any business into any public assembly, and
of taking part in its deliberations. Then Massachusetts,
by special law, offered free welcome and aid,
at the public cost, to Christians of any nationality
who might fly beyond the Atlantic ‘to escape from
wars or famine, or the oppression of their persecutors.’
Thus the fugitive and the downtrodden were,
by statute, made the guests of the commonwealth.
Pilgrim hospitality was as wide as misfortune.”<a id="FNanchor_1056" href="#Footnote_1056" class="fnanchor">[1056]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_418"></a>[418]</span></p>

<p>This noble legislation was but the forerunner of
a yet more significant act. In 1643, after several
prior ineffectual essays, the four chief colonies of
New England clasped hands in a confederacy.<a id="FNanchor_1057" href="#Footnote_1057" class="fnanchor">[1057]</a>
Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Haven, and Plymouth,
by solemn and free agreement, became the
“<span class="smcap">United Colonies of New England</span>.”<a id="FNanchor_1058" href="#Footnote_1058" class="fnanchor">[1058]</a> The Dutch
Republic was the model of this union;<a id="FNanchor_1059" href="#Footnote_1059" class="fnanchor">[1059]</a> and the
reasons which impelled the Pilgrims to cement it
are recited in the preamble to the twelve Articles
of Agreement:</p>

<p>“Whereas, we all came into these parts of
America with one and the same end and aim,
namely, to advance the kingdom of our Lord
Jesus Christ, and to enjoy the liberties of the gospel
in purity and peace; and whereas, in our settling—by
a wise providence of God—we are farther
dispersed upon the seacoasts and rivers than was
at first intended, so that we cannot, according to
our desires, with convenience communicate in one
government and jurisdiction; and whereas we live
encompassed with people of several nations and
strange languages, which may hereafter prove injurious
to us or our posterity; and forasmuch as the
natives have formerly committed sundry insolences
and outrages upon several plantations of the English,
and have of late combined themselves against
us; and seeing, by reason of these sad distractions
in England, which the Indians have heard of, and by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_419"></a>[419]</span>
which they know we are hindered from that humble
way of seeking advice or reaping those comfortable
fruits of protection which at other times we might
well expect; we hereby conceive it our bounden
duty, without delay, to enter into a present consociation
for mutual help and strength in all our future
concernments; that, as in nation and religion, so
in other respects, we be and continue one.”<a id="FNanchor_1060" href="#Footnote_1060" class="fnanchor">[1060]</a></p>

<p>The old Hindoo dreamed that he saw the human
race led out to its varied fortune. First, he
saw men bitted and curbed, and the reins went
back to an iron hand. But his dream changed on
and on, until at last he saw men led by reins that
came from the brain and ran back into shadowy
fingers. It was the type of progress. The first
was despotism; the last was a government of ideas,
of morals, of the normal forces of society.<a id="FNanchor_1061" href="#Footnote_1061" class="fnanchor">[1061]</a> The
New England Confederation was the forerunner of
a mightier union; and when Liberty saw it, she
cried, “Eureka!” and thanked God.</p>

<p>The machinery of the league was very simple,
very sensible, and very effective. The colonies were
co-equal. Each appointed two commissioners, who
formed a directory, which was to hold an annual
session. The commissioners were empowered to
assemble more frequently if necessity pressed; and
they could deliberate on all matters which were “the
proper concomitants or consequents of confederation.”<a id="FNanchor_1062" href="#Footnote_1062" class="fnanchor">[1062]</a>
“The affairs of peace and war exclusively<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_420"></a>[420]</span>
belonged to them. They were authorized to make
internal improvements at the common charge, assessed
according to population. They too were the
guardians to see equal and speedy justice assured
to all the confederates in every jurisdiction; but
each colony carefully reserved its respective local
rights, as the badges of continued independence;
so that, while the commissioners might decree war
and levy troops, they had no executive power, but
were dependent on the states for the execution of
the plans they matured and voted.”<a id="FNanchor_1063" href="#Footnote_1063" class="fnanchor">[1063]</a></p>

<p>Two bodies of colonists were rigidly excluded
from this union. Gorges’ pioneers, beyond the Piscataqua,
were not admitted, because “they ran a
different course” from the Pilgrims, “both in their
ministry and in their civil administration.” Providence
and Rhode Island were shut out, partly because
they were not esteemed sufficiently strong
and settled to add strength to the league, and also
because they were regarded as the haunts of heresy
and fanaticism.<a id="FNanchor_1064" href="#Footnote_1064" class="fnanchor">[1064]</a> It was thought that the confederacy,
in order to be effective, should be homogeneous.
On that basis it was launched; and, surviving
“the jealousies of the Long Parliament, it met
with favor from the Protector, remained safe from
censure at the restoration of the Stuarts,” and
walked buoyantly on, scattering its benefactions
on the right hand and on the left, until James II.
vacated the New England charters, in 1686.<a id="FNanchor_1065" href="#Footnote_1065" class="fnanchor">[1065]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_421"></a>[421]</span></p>

<p>The colonial union was the crowning service of
the founders of New England to humanity. Now
they began, one by one, to descend into the grave,
worn to early death by a toilsome grapple with the
rough and grinding forces of nature. But in their
footsteps trudged their sons, succeeding to the
same blessed inheritance of faith, and love, and
godly energy.<a id="FNanchor_1066" href="#Footnote_1066" class="fnanchor">[1066]</a></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_422"></a>[422]</span></p>

<p>Travellers tell us that at Florence there is a rich
table, worth a thousand crowns, made of precious
stones neatly inlaid, in whose construction thirty<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_423"></a>[423]</span>
men were employed daily for fifteen years. The
Pilgrim Fathers were twice that time in carving
out and inlaying New England with churches, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_424"></a>[424]</span>
free schools, and printing-presses, and manufactures.
Think of their task. “That gore of land, a
few hundred miles wide and long, which lies between
the St. Lawrence and the Atlantic ocean, and
seems to have been formed of the leavings and fragments
after the rest of the continent was made,
whose ribs stick out past all covering; which has<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_425"></a>[425]</span>
sand enough to scour the world; where there are
no large rivers, but many nimble little ones, which
seem to have been busy since the flood in taking
exercise over rifts and rocks. This was their field
of action. The only indigenous productions were
ice, Indians, and stunted trees. Trading and commercial
adventurers had essayed to effect a settlement
in vain. The soil was too hard even for Indians
and rovers. It was apparently set apart for
a wilderness, and it had peculiar aptitudes for keeping
man away from it. Its summers were short,
its winters were long, its rocks were innumerable,
its soil was thin.” Yet the Pilgrims entered and
subdued this waste, making it to bud with churches
and to bloom with schools; cultivating it to the
sterile hill-tops; dotting the landscape with neat
farm-houses, factories, mills, the evidences and the
tokens of a ripe, full civilization.</p>

<p>But the fierce struggle with nature left its scars
upon the Pilgrims, and it has marked their children.
They had to seize and impress into their
service every help. This begot the inventive faculty,
and the habit of looking at every thing from
the angle of its utility. This it was which strung
factories on every stream-side, as gold beads are
hung on a silver cord; which used every drop of
water a dozen times over in turning wheels before
it was suffered to run, weary and fretted, to the sea;
which sent the little feet toddling to the woodpile
to pick up chips; which made labor-saving machines,
those gnomes whose cunning fingers were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_426"></a>[426]</span>
to work up the black earth and the hard rock into
golden grains.</p>

<p>“Looking, therefore, at civilization in New England,
we see a people beginning without aristocracy
or hierarchical forms. We see the leading men
among them educated and honorable; the working
men devoted to agriculture and owners of the soil.
We see all resisting the incoming of a state church,
persistently opposing a distant but domineering
court; and, singularly enough, through nigh two
centuries of savage and civilized war, steadily refusing
to organize a standing army, trusting to the
native valor of the mass. Thus the commonalty
educated themselves by daily practice in self-government,
until, at this present time, rulers there are
simply lay-figures for show-days.”</p>

<p>“The Pilgrims were readers. Drunkenness,
pauperism, filth, and dilapidation, nowhere abounded.
They were thrifty, and industrious, and frugal;
and so, though the land was poor, they lived in
comfort. Money was hard to get, and carefully
spent; no man lavished it, or lent it except on good
security; yet nowhere else was there such a constant
contribution for the relief of suffering or the
cure of secular and religious ignorance; nowhere
else would men more quickly risk life and health to
serve a fellow. As there was no aristocracy, so
there was no inferior or pariah class, except when,
at an unguarded moment, negro slavery crept in
for a time. But servitude was so palpably contrary
to the genius and principles of the Pilgrims, that it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_427"></a>[427]</span>
was banished as soon as the mind and conscience
grappled with it;” for the corner-stone of New England
was religion, and the top-stone was honest,
self-respecting, well-paid, and skilled labor. Religion
and labor begot that spirit which has tamed
the continent, cheered it with churches and schools,
set the busy spindles humming and the shuttles
flying, plunged into the earth and into the sea, run
over the prairies, talking by lightning from the Atlantic
to the Pacific, until the whole land where
men are intelligent, industrious, and free, seems
singing and smiling at its daily work.</p>

<p>The Pilgrim Fathers literally obeyed the injunction
of the great German poet—they knew the aim
and reason of yesterday; they worked well to-day
for worthy things, calmly trusting the future’s hidden
season, and believing with unquestioning faith
that their children would eat of the fruit of the tree
which they had planted in a sterile soil and under
wintry skies. Patient in waiting, they never hurried;
they did not dig up their seed every twelve
hours to see whether it had sprouted. Without
haste, they were also without rest; and in their
treatment of causes, they never paused to worry
and fret about effects; for they knew that justice
was the best policy, and that the steady every-day
bravery which vaunteth not itself is more than a
match for the Hotspur valor which presumes that
any cause is good which is desperately defended.</p>

<p>The Pilgrims were men of conscience; and this
they carried with them into work and into statesmanship.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_428"></a>[428]</span>
Quincy Adams once, in a happy moment,
called New England “the colony of conscience.”
It was a religious plantation, not an essay for trade.
“He that made religion as twelve and the world as
thirteen had not the spirit of a true New England
man.” “Religion was the object of the Pilgrims;
it was also their consolation. With this the wounds
of the outcast were healed, and the tears of exile
were sweetened.”</p>

<p>Puritanism has been finely called religion struggling
for the people—evoking, in the logical sequence
of events, political equality. “Those peculiar
outward emblems, which were its badges at
first, were of transient duration; like the clay and
ligaments with which the graft is held in its place,
made to be brushed away as soon as the scion is
firmly united. The spirit of the Pilgrims was a
life-giving spirit; activity, thrift, intelligence, liberty,
followed in its train; and as for courage, a
coward and a Puritan never went together. ‘He
that prays best and preaches best will fight best;’
such was the judgment of Cromwell, the greatest
soldier of his age.”</p>

<p>From any enumeration of the elements of the
early colonial felicity, purity of morals must not be
omitted. “As Ireland would not brook venomous
serpents, so would not that land vile livers.” One
might dwell there “from year to year, and not see
a drunkard, nor hear an oath, nor meet a beggar.”
The consequence was wide-spread health, one of
the chief promoters of social happiness.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_429"></a>[429]</span></p>

<p>As for the soil, it was owned by the colonists.
It was bought and paid for. The little farms, the
straggling villages, the slowly-growing towns, were
the absolute private property of their occupants;
and in a time of unusual commotion, when their
settlements, for which they had done and dared so
much, seemed menaced with subversion—seemed
liable to be converted into a receptacle for all the
spawn of England—the Pilgrims assumed to decide,
standing on their own grounds, who should be welcomed
among them as fellow-citizens, who should
be treated as guests, and who should be bidden to
depart, never to return under the heaviest penalty.</p>

<p>Yet “on every subject but religion, the mildness
of Puritan legislation corresponded to the popular
character of the Puritan doctrines. Hardly a European
nation has as yet made its criminal code as
humane as was that of early New England. The
Pilgrims brushed a crowd of offences at one sweep
from the catalogue of capital crimes. They never
countenanced the idea that the forfeiture of human
life may be demanded for the protection of material
interests. The punishment for theft, burglary,
highway robbery, was far more mild than the penalties
imposed even by modern American legislation.
Domestic discipline was highly valued; but if the
law was severe against the child who was undutiful,
it was also severe against the parent who was faithless.
The earlier laws did not decree imprisonment
for debt, except when there was an appearance of
some estate which the debtor would not produce.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_430"></a>[430]</span>
Even the brute creation was not forgotten; and cruelty
to animals was a civil offence. The sympathies
of the colonists were wide; a regard for Protestant
Germany was as old as emigration; and during the
Thirty Years’ war, the Pilgrims held fasts and offered
prayers for the success of the Saxon cause”—crowned
with the gospel.</p>

<p>But the glory of the Pilgrim Fathers was their
faith. They trusted God, and acted. The secret
of their strength and success was the open Bible
and the family altar. They were men, and therefore
not infallible. They sometimes erred grievously,
and walked limping and awry; but they
always meant right, and with God’s word as a lamp
to their feet, they could not stray and grope far or
long from the sunlight. To much that the Pilgrim
conscientiously believed, and with his whole heart
accepted, the present age has grown careless; we
are lukewarm or indifferent upon some points which
he esteemed vital; but it is small credit to us, if we
are tolerant of error simply because we care little
for truth. In former times New England was not
latitudinarian; and, clad in her sparkling snow,
crowned with her evergreen pine, the glory of her
brow was justice, the splendor of her eye was liberty,
the strength of her hands was industry, the
whiteness of her bosom was faith; for the Pilgrims
were men of absolute conviction. Moral earnestness
was the key with which they unlocked the
treasure-house of success. They were always true
to their highest conceptions; and they could say<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_431"></a>[431]</span>
as Paul said to Agrippa, “I obeyed the heavenly
vision.”</p>

<p>Yet they were not visionaries, but they made
that fine distinction between material nature and
spirituality: “giving to Cæsar the things which
are Cæsar’s, and unto God the things which are
God’s.” Thus it was that, though they were the
most practical of men, they were also the most spiritual—wedding
a paradox.</p>

<p>The curse of our age is materialism. We kindle
only within the sphere of material interests and
pursuits. On higher subjects we are as cold as an
ice-field on the breast of Alp. There is an apotheosis
of dirt. Men do not half believe in what they
cannot see, and feel, and handle. They group
about them the tokens of their skill—steam-engines,
and telegraphs, and sewing-machines—and
worship these as the ultimate good, saying, “See,
these are the realities of life.”</p>

<p>The Pilgrim spirit protests against this tendency.
It comes to remind us that the controllers
of the present, the moulders of the future, are not
the babblers who plead for an unreal realism; that
they are not the heaviest brains of the epoch, but
the heroes of religious earnestness, men inspired
by drinking from the spiritual springs, men who go
forth to fight like the red knight of Odessa, with the
cross emblazoned on their shield, and with Christ
buried in their hearts. Behind intellect there must
be a ground-swell of religious earnestness, else brains
are a snare, and useless. Rousseau, and Voltaire,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_432"></a>[432]</span>
and Pascal, do not mark the ages. Name them anywhere,
and scores of vacant eyes will ask you, “Who
are they?” The Luthers, the Calvins, the Ridleys,
the Brewsters, shake the world, seize all hearts, and
educate the centuries, because they were fired by
conviction, and built for God.</p>

<p>This is the lesson which the story of the Pilgrims
teaches us. Let us heed it; and then, clasping
hands with the martyrs and apostles, we too
may press forward with our “garlands and singing-robes
about us,” and by battling for Christ, insure
for ourselves in the long hereafter a blessed rest
and a fragrant memory.</p>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">

<div class="chapter"></div>
<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES:</h2>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Palfrey, Hist. of New England, vol. 1, p. 101.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> Perhaps this whole chapter of history is nowhere more graphically
treated than in D’Aubigné’s Hist. of the Ref. in the Sixteenth
Century. See also, Ranke’s Hist. of the Popes.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> Uhden, New England Theocracy, p. 15.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> Grote, Hist. of Greece.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> Preface to Warburton’s Divine Legation.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> Neale, Hist. of the Puritans. Collier’s Church Hist. Hallam,
Const. Hist. of Eng.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> See “An Account of the Principles and Practices of Several
Non-conformists, wherein it appears that their religion is no other
than that which is professed in the Church of England,” etc. By
Mr. John Corbet; London, 1682.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> Elliot, Hist. of New Eng., vol. 1, p. 43.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> Fuller, Church Hist. Strype, Life of Parker. Heylin, Life
of Lord Clarendon.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> Palfrey, Hist. of New England, vol. 1, p. 113, note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> Palfrey, Hist. of New England, vol. 1, p. 114.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> Hoyt, Antiquarian Researches.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> Fuller, Ch. Hist., vol. 3. Rymer’s Fœdera, vol. 16, p. 694.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> Goodrich, Ch. Hist.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> Neale, History of the Puritans, vol. 1. Rushworth, Clarendon,
etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> Parliamentary History.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> Strype, Life of Whitgift. Bradshaw, English Puritanism,
1605.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> Calderwood, True Hist. of the Ch. of Scotland. Perry, Ch.
Hist., vol. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> Fuller, Ch. Hist., vol. 3. Hume, Hist. of Eng., etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> Barlow’s Account of the Hampton Court Conference. A copy
of it is in Harvard college library. Harrington, Nugæ Antiquæ.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> Palfrey, Hist. of New England, vol. 1, p. 131.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> Bradford, Hist. of the Plymouth Plantation, p. 9.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> Bancroft, Hist. United States, vol. 1, pp. 277, 278.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> Bradford, Hist. Plymouth Plantation.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> Ibid., Morton’s Memorial, Founders of New Plymouth, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> Bradford, Hist. Plymouth Plantation, pp. 10, 11. See also
Neal’s Hist. of New England, vol. 1, p. 76.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> Some authorities say 1602. Newell, for instance, p. 348,
citing the British Quarterly Review. But so competent an authority
as Bradford gives the date in the text. See also Young’s Chronicles,
etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> Bradford, p. 12.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> Ibid. Young’s Chronicles of the Pilgrims.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> Bradford, p. 12.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> Stoughton, Spiritual Heroes, p. 72.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> British Quarterly Review, vol. 1, p. 15.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> Stoughton, Young, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> Young’s Chronicles, Stoughton, Bradford, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> Stoughton.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> British Quarterly Review, vol. 1, p. 15.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> Stoughton, p. 74.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> Young, cited in Stoughton, p. 74.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a> Young’s Chronicles, p. 29.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> The facts in the above description of Amsterdam are taken
from Motley’s Rise of the Dutch Republic, from various accounts
of travels in the Low Countries, and particularly from the very
interesting and instructive “Tour” of W. Chambers. London,
1837.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> Bancroft, Hist. United States, vol. 1, p. 303.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> Ibid. Bradford, Young, Stoughton, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">[44]</a> Bradford, Hist. Plymouth Plantation.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">[45]</a> Stoughton, p. 82. Young’s Chronicles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">[46]</a> Morton’s Memorial, Prince, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">[47]</a> Bradford, Cotton Mather, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="label">[48]</a> Stoughton, p. 82.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="label">[49]</a> Bradford, Hist. Plymouth Plantation, p. 17.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="label">[50]</a> Golden Book of Marcus Aurelius; first printed in English in
1534. Debley’s Typog. Antiq., vol. 3, p. 289.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="label">[51]</a> Bradford, pp. 17, 18.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="label">[52]</a> Bradford, pp. 17, 18. Young, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="label">[53]</a> Bradford, pp. 17, 18.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_54" href="#FNanchor_54" class="label">[54]</a> Cotton Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 47.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_55" href="#FNanchor_55" class="label">[55]</a> Bradford, p. 18. Stoughton.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_56" href="#FNanchor_56" class="label">[56]</a> Cited in Stoughton, p. 84.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_57" href="#FNanchor_57" class="label">[57]</a> Robinson died at Leyden, <ins class="corr" id="tn-46" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'March 1, 1864-5'">
March 1, 1625</ins>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_58" href="#FNanchor_58" class="label">[58]</a> For an interesting account of Ziska, or Zisca, the blind
Hussite leader of the Bohemian insurgents, who was never defeated,
see Mosheim’s Eccles. Hist., cent. XV., Hallam’s Hist. of
the Middle Ages, vol. 1, p. 463, or the Encyclopædia Americana,
article “Zisca.”</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_59" href="#FNanchor_59" class="label">[59]</a> Bradford, pp. 18, 19.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_60" href="#FNanchor_60" class="label">[60]</a> Ibid., pp. 19, 20.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_61" href="#FNanchor_61" class="label">[61]</a> The Walloons inhabited the southern Belgic provinces bordering
on France. As they spoke the French language, “they were
called <i lang="fr">Gallois</i>, which was changed, in Low Dutch, into Waalsche,
and in English into Walloon.” Many of them were Protestants,
and being subject to relentless persecution by the Spanish government,
they emigrated in great numbers into Holland, carrying
with them a knowledge of the industrial arts. See Bradford’s
Hist. Plym. Plantation, p. 20, note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_62" href="#FNanchor_62" class="label">[62]</a> Bradford, p. 20. Stoughton, Young, Ashton’s Life of Robinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_63" href="#FNanchor_63" class="label">[63]</a> Stoughton, p. 85.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_64" href="#FNanchor_64" class="label">[64]</a> Bradford, Young, Neal, Mather, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_65" href="#FNanchor_65" class="label">[65]</a> A collection of the Works of John Robinson was printed in
London in 1851, with a memoir and annotations by Mr. Robert
Ashton.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_66" href="#FNanchor_66" class="label">[66]</a> Bradford, p. 21. Cotton Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 47.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_67" href="#FNanchor_67" class="label">[67]</a> Bradford, Mather, Stoughton.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_68" href="#FNanchor_68" class="label">[68]</a> Ibid., Young, Ashton’s Life of Robinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_69" href="#FNanchor_69" class="label">[69]</a> Robinson’s Apology for the Romanists.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_70" href="#FNanchor_70" class="label">[70]</a> Uhden, New England Theocracy, p. 42. Robinson’s Works,
etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_71" href="#FNanchor_71" class="label">[71]</a> Uhden, p. 42.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_72" href="#FNanchor_72" class="label">[72]</a> This “famous truce,” so long desired, embraced a period of
twelve years. It was signed in April, 1609, and expired in 1621.
Grattan, Hist. Netherlands.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_73" href="#FNanchor_73" class="label">[73]</a> Bancroft, Hist. United States, vol. 1, p. 303.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_74" href="#FNanchor_74" class="label">[74]</a> Bradford, Hist. Plymouth Plantation, pp. 22, 23.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_75" href="#FNanchor_75" class="label">[75]</a> See Plutarch’s Life of Cato the Younger.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_76" href="#FNanchor_76" class="label">[76]</a> Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_77" href="#FNanchor_77" class="label">[77]</a> Proverbs 22:3.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_78" href="#FNanchor_78" class="label">[78]</a> Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_79" href="#FNanchor_79" class="label">[79]</a> Bradford, p. 24.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_80" href="#FNanchor_80" class="label">[80]</a> Bradford, p. 24.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_81" href="#FNanchor_81" class="label">[81]</a> For additional reasons, see Young, p. 385.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_82" href="#FNanchor_82" class="label">[82]</a> Bancroft, Hist. United States, vol. 1, p. 303.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_83" href="#FNanchor_83" class="label">[83]</a> Bradford, p. 24; Young’s Chronicles, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_84" href="#FNanchor_84" class="label">[84]</a> In allusion, probably, to the plantation project at Sagadahoc,
in 1607. See Bancroft and others.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_85" href="#FNanchor_85" class="label">[85]</a> This debate is copied from Bradford, pp. 25-27.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_86" href="#FNanchor_86" class="label">[86]</a> Bradford, Young, Elliot, Bancroft, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_87" href="#FNanchor_87" class="label">[87]</a> Wilson’s Pilgrim Fathers, p. 341.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_88" href="#FNanchor_88" class="label">[88]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 204.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_89" href="#FNanchor_89" class="label">[89]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_90" href="#FNanchor_90" class="label">[90]</a> Ibid., Bradford, Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_91" href="#FNanchor_91" class="label">[91]</a> Wilson’s Pilgrim Fathers, p. 356.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_92" href="#FNanchor_92" class="label">[92]</a> Ibid., Bradford, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_93" href="#FNanchor_93" class="label">[93]</a> Bradford, p. 29.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_94" href="#FNanchor_94" class="label">[94]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_95" href="#FNanchor_95" class="label">[95]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 304.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_96" href="#FNanchor_96" class="label">[96]</a> Bradford, p. 28.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_97" href="#FNanchor_97" class="label">[97]</a> Bradford, p. 28.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_98" href="#FNanchor_98" class="label">[98]</a> For some account of Sir Edwin Sandys, one of the most
prominent members of the Virginia company, see Hood’s Athenæ
Oxon., vol. 2, p. 472.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_99" href="#FNanchor_99" class="label">[99]</a> This letter, as also that of Sandys which occasioned it, may
be found <i lang="la">in extenso</i> in Bradford, pp. 30, 31, 32, 33.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_100" href="#FNanchor_100" class="label">[100]</a> Bradford, p. 29.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_101" href="#FNanchor_101" class="label">[101]</a> Bancroft, p. 305.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_102" href="#FNanchor_102" class="label">[102]</a> Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_103" href="#FNanchor_103" class="label">[103]</a> Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_104" href="#FNanchor_104" class="label">[104]</a> Ibid. “Being taken in the name of one who failed to accompany
the expedition, the patent was never of the least service.”
Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 303.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_105" href="#FNanchor_105" class="label">[105]</a> Bancroft, pp. 305, 306. The title of the company thus
formed was “The Merchant Adventurers.” See Elliot, vol. 1, p.
49.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_106" href="#FNanchor_106" class="label">[106]</a> Bradford. Winslow in Young’s Chronicles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_107" href="#FNanchor_107" class="label">[107]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_108" href="#FNanchor_108" class="label">[108]</a> Bradford. Winslow in Young’s Chronicles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_109" href="#FNanchor_109" class="label">[109]</a> Bradford, p. 42.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_110" href="#FNanchor_110" class="label">[110]</a> Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_111" href="#FNanchor_111" class="label">[111]</a> Ezra 8:21. This is the version in Bradford’s Narrative.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_112" href="#FNanchor_112" class="label">[112]</a> Stoughton, Spiritual Heroes—The Pilgrim Fathers.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_113" href="#FNanchor_113" class="label">[113]</a> Neale; Winslow in Young; Belknap, Stoughton, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_114" href="#FNanchor_114" class="label">[114]</a> Stoughton, p. 97.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_115" href="#FNanchor_115" class="label">[115]</a> The first separatists were so called after Robert Brown, who,
in the latter part of the sixteenth century, propounded a system
of church government which contained many of the features of
modern Congregationalism. Brown was born in 1549, and was a
relative of Elizabeth’s lord-treasurer, the famous Burleigh. In
1582 he published his book, “The Life and Manners of True
Christians,” and suffered persecution therefor. Eventually, after
a roving life, he conformed to the church of England, and was
made rector in Northamptonshire. Shortly after, he died very
miserably in a jail. Strype’s Annals, vol. 2. Collier’s Eccl. Hist.,
part 2, book 7.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_116" href="#FNanchor_116" class="label">[116]</a> Winslow’s account of Robinson’s Sermon.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_117" href="#FNanchor_117" class="label">[117]</a> Wilson’s Pilgrim Fathers. Bradford, Belknap.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_118" href="#FNanchor_118" class="label">[118]</a> Elliot, Hist. of New England, vol. 1. Palfrey, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_119" href="#FNanchor_119" class="label">[119]</a> Ibid., Bradford, Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_120" href="#FNanchor_120" class="label">[120]</a> Winslow in Young’s Chronicles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_121" href="#FNanchor_121" class="label">[121]</a> Stoughton.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_122" href="#FNanchor_122" class="label">[122]</a> Ibid., p. 100.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_123" href="#FNanchor_123" class="label">[123]</a> Young’s Chronicles. Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_124" href="#FNanchor_124" class="label">[124]</a> Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_125" href="#FNanchor_125" class="label">[125]</a> Bradford, pp. 69, 70.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_126" href="#FNanchor_126" class="label">[126]</a> Dated Dartmouth, August 17, 1620. Cushman remained in
England. Elliot, vol. 1, p. 57.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_127" href="#FNanchor_127" class="label">[127]</a> Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_128" href="#FNanchor_128" class="label">[128]</a> Virgil’s Æneid, book 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_129" href="#FNanchor_129" class="label">[129]</a> Elliot, Hist. New England, vol. 1, pp. 58, 59.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_130" href="#FNanchor_130" class="label">[130]</a> See this whole letter in Bradford, pp. 64-67.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_131" href="#FNanchor_131" class="label">[131]</a> Bradford, Young, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_132" href="#FNanchor_132" class="label">[132]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 310. This compact was signed Nov.
11, 1620.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_133" href="#FNanchor_133" class="label">[133]</a> Ibid., p. 309.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_134" href="#FNanchor_134" class="label">[134]</a> “Some have charged that the Dutch bribed the captain to deceive
the Pilgrims. Bradford does not mention it, and the Dutch
historians deny it.” Elliot, vol. 1, p. 59.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_135" href="#FNanchor_135" class="label">[135]</a> Uhden, Wilson, Smith’s Narrative, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_136" href="#FNanchor_136" class="label">[136]</a> Bradford, Elliot, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_137" href="#FNanchor_137" class="label">[137]</a> Longfellow’s Courtship of Miles Standish.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_138" href="#FNanchor_138" class="label">[138]</a> Journal of the Pilgrims.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_139" href="#FNanchor_139" class="label">[139]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_140" href="#FNanchor_140" class="label">[140]</a> Journal of the Pilgrims.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_141" href="#FNanchor_141" class="label">[141]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_142" href="#FNanchor_142" class="label">[142]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 61.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_143" href="#FNanchor_143" class="label">[143]</a> Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_144" href="#FNanchor_144" class="label">[144]</a> Bradford, Winslow.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_145" href="#FNanchor_145" class="label">[145]</a> Ibid. Young, Elliot, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_146" href="#FNanchor_146" class="label">[146]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, pp. 62, 63.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_147" href="#FNanchor_147" class="label">[147]</a> Ibid. Bradford, Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_148" href="#FNanchor_148" class="label">[148]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 312.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_149" href="#FNanchor_149" class="label">[149]</a> According to the new style of reckoning time, it was the 22d
of December, now kept as “Forefathers’ Day.”</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_150" href="#FNanchor_150" class="label">[150]</a> Bradford, Winslow.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_151" href="#FNanchor_151" class="label">[151]</a> Ibid., Elliot, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_152" href="#FNanchor_152" class="label">[152]</a> Fort Hill, now Burial Hill.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_153" href="#FNanchor_153" class="label">[153]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 66.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_154" href="#FNanchor_154" class="label">[154]</a> Now called Leyden-street.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_155" href="#FNanchor_155" class="label">[155]</a> Elliot, Bradford, Young’s Chronicles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_156" href="#FNanchor_156" class="label">[156]</a> Journal of the Pilgrims.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_157" href="#FNanchor_157" class="label">[157]</a> Ibid., Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_158" href="#FNanchor_158" class="label">[158]</a> One of these was Clarke’s Island; the other was probably
Saquish Peninsula.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_159" href="#FNanchor_159" class="label">[159]</a> Young’s Chronicles. Journal of the Pilgrims.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_160" href="#FNanchor_160" class="label">[160]</a> Cotton Mather, Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 51.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_161" href="#FNanchor_161" class="label">[161]</a> Ibid., Elliot, Felt.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_162" href="#FNanchor_162" class="label">[162]</a> Elliot, p. 67.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_163" href="#FNanchor_163" class="label">[163]</a> Ibid. Journal of the Pilgrims. Young, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_164" href="#FNanchor_164" class="label">[164]</a> Longfellow’s Miles Standish, p. 11.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_165" href="#FNanchor_165" class="label">[165]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 310.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_166" href="#FNanchor_166" class="label">[166]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 308.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_167" href="#FNanchor_167" class="label">[167]</a></p>

<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry" lang="la">
    <div class="verse indent0">“Exiguam sedem sacris, litusque rogamus</div>
    <div class="verse indent0">Innocuum, et cunctis undamque; auramque; patentem.”</div>
    <div class="verse indent17">Cotton Mather, Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 52.</div>
</div>
</div>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_168" href="#FNanchor_168" class="label">[168]</a> Bancroft, Banvard, Elliot, Felt.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_169" href="#FNanchor_169" class="label">[169]</a> Journal of the Pilgrims.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_170" href="#FNanchor_170" class="label">[170]</a> Young’s Chron. of the Pilg’s. Pilgrims’ Jour.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_171" href="#FNanchor_171" class="label">[171]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_172" href="#FNanchor_172" class="label">[172]</a> Bradford, Young, Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_173" href="#FNanchor_173" class="label">[173]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_174" href="#FNanchor_174" class="label">[174]</a> Bradford, Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_175" href="#FNanchor_175" class="label">[175]</a> Ibid. Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_176" href="#FNanchor_176" class="label">[176]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_177" href="#FNanchor_177" class="label">[177]</a> Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_178" href="#FNanchor_178" class="label">[178]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 71.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_179" href="#FNanchor_179" class="label">[179]</a> Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_180" href="#FNanchor_180" class="label">[180]</a> Bradford, Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_181" href="#FNanchor_181" class="label">[181]</a> Ibid. Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_182" href="#FNanchor_182" class="label">[182]</a> Bancroft, Elliot, Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_183" href="#FNanchor_183" class="label">[183]</a> Bradford, Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

<p>“On the 22d of March, the first interview took place between
the Pilgrims and the Indians, with their great chief Massasoit,
Squanto acting as interpreter. This was conducted becomingly
on both sides, and according to the manner of the time. After
Gov. Carver had drunk some ‘strong water’—rum—to the sachem,
Massasoit ‘drunk a great draught that made him sweat all the
while after.’ The result of the conference was an alliance, offensive
and defensive, between the governor and the chief, applauded
by the followers of both, and Massasoit was received as an ally of the
dread King James.” Elliot, vol. 1, p. 72.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_184" href="#FNanchor_184" class="label">[184]</a> Young’s Chronicles, Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_185" href="#FNanchor_185" class="label">[185]</a> Bancroft, p. 317.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_186" href="#FNanchor_186" class="label">[186]</a> Pilgrims’ Journal, p. 58.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_187" href="#FNanchor_187" class="label">[187]</a> Elliot, p. 73.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_188" href="#FNanchor_188" class="label">[188]</a> Bancroft, Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_189" href="#FNanchor_189" class="label">[189]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_190" href="#FNanchor_190" class="label">[190]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_191" href="#FNanchor_191" class="label">[191]</a> Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_192" href="#FNanchor_192" class="label">[192]</a> Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_193" href="#FNanchor_193" class="label">[193]</a> Elliot, p. 74.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_194" href="#FNanchor_194" class="label">[194]</a> Bradford’s Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_195" href="#FNanchor_195" class="label">[195]</a> Holmes’ Annals, Thatcher’s Plymouth, p. 37.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_196" href="#FNanchor_196" class="label">[196]</a> Bradford, Hist. Plymouth Plantation, p. 101.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_197" href="#FNanchor_197" class="label">[197]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_198" href="#FNanchor_198" class="label">[198]</a> Holmes, Thatcher, Elliot, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_199" href="#FNanchor_199" class="label">[199]</a> Elliot, p. 75.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_200" href="#FNanchor_200" class="label">[200]</a> Sigourney.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_201" href="#FNanchor_201" class="label">[201]</a> Elliot, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_202" href="#FNanchor_202" class="label">[202]</a> Bradford, Young, Thatcher.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_203" href="#FNanchor_203" class="label">[203]</a> Pilgrims’ Journal. Winslow.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_204" href="#FNanchor_204" class="label">[204]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_205" href="#FNanchor_205" class="label">[205]</a> Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_206" href="#FNanchor_206" class="label">[206]</a> Palfrey, Hist. New England, vol. 1, p. 182.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_207" href="#FNanchor_207" class="label">[207]</a> Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_208" href="#FNanchor_208" class="label">[208]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 182.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_209" href="#FNanchor_209" class="label">[209]</a> Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_210" href="#FNanchor_210" class="label">[210]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, pp. 317, 318.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_211" href="#FNanchor_211" class="label">[211]</a> Chronicles of the Pilgrims.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_212" href="#FNanchor_212" class="label">[212]</a> Ibid., Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_213" href="#FNanchor_213" class="label">[213]</a> Winslow in Chronicles of the Pilgrims, p. 201.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_214" href="#FNanchor_214" class="label">[214]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_215" href="#FNanchor_215" class="label">[215]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_216" href="#FNanchor_216" class="label">[216]</a> Winslow in Chronicles of the Pilgrims, p. 201. Banvard,
Wilson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_217" href="#FNanchor_217" class="label">[217]</a> Chronicles of the Pilgrims.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_218" href="#FNanchor_218" class="label">[218]</a> Ibid. Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 184.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_219" href="#FNanchor_219" class="label">[219]</a> Chronicles of the Pilgrims. Mount, Journal, p. 45.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_220" href="#FNanchor_220" class="label">[220]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_221" href="#FNanchor_221" class="label">[221]</a> Wilson, p. 386.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_222" href="#FNanchor_222" class="label">[222]</a> Ibid. Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_223" href="#FNanchor_223" class="label">[223]</a> Banvard. Chronicles of the Pilgrims.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_224" href="#FNanchor_224" class="label">[224]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 184. Banvard, p. 55. Wilson, p. 386.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_225" href="#FNanchor_225" class="label">[225]</a> Chronicles of the Pilgrims. Mount, Journal, p. 47.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_226" href="#FNanchor_226" class="label">[226]</a> Banvard, Plymouth and the Pilgrims, p. 55.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_227" href="#FNanchor_227" class="label">[227]</a> Mount, Journal. Chronicles, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_228" href="#FNanchor_228" class="label">[228]</a> Wilson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_229" href="#FNanchor_229" class="label">[229]</a> Whittier, Ballads and other Poems.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_230" href="#FNanchor_230" class="label">[230]</a> Pilgrims’ Journal, Palfrey, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_231" href="#FNanchor_231" class="label">[231]</a> Banvard, p. 56. Prince; Mount in Young, pp. 214-218.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_232" href="#FNanchor_232" class="label">[232]</a> Mount in Young. Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_233" href="#FNanchor_233" class="label">[233]</a> Bradford, p. 103.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_234" href="#FNanchor_234" class="label">[234]</a> Banvard, p. 56. Mount.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_235" href="#FNanchor_235" class="label">[235]</a> Mount in Young. Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_236" href="#FNanchor_236" class="label">[236]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_237" href="#FNanchor_237" class="label">[237]</a> Bradford, p. 103.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_238" href="#FNanchor_238" class="label">[238]</a> Banvard, p. 58.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_239" href="#FNanchor_239" class="label">[239]</a> Mount in Young. Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_240" href="#FNanchor_240" class="label">[240]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_241" href="#FNanchor_241" class="label">[241]</a> Ibid. Prince, vol. 1, p. 107.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_242" href="#FNanchor_242" class="label">[242]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_243" href="#FNanchor_243" class="label">[243]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 185. Bradford, p. 103.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_244" href="#FNanchor_244" class="label">[244]</a> Pope.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_245" href="#FNanchor_245" class="label">[245]</a> Palfrey, Banvard, Bradford, Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_246" href="#FNanchor_246" class="label">[246]</a> Bradford, p. 103.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_247" href="#FNanchor_247" class="label">[247]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 185.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_248" href="#FNanchor_248" class="label">[248]</a> Banvard, p. 62.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_249" href="#FNanchor_249" class="label">[249]</a> Nabb’s Microcosmos.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_250" href="#FNanchor_250" class="label">[250]</a> Bradford, pp. 103, 104.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_251" href="#FNanchor_251" class="label">[251]</a> Mount in Young; Banvard, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_252" href="#FNanchor_252" class="label">[252]</a> Banvard, p. 64.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_253" href="#FNanchor_253" class="label">[253]</a> Mount in Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_254" href="#FNanchor_254" class="label">[254]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_255" href="#FNanchor_255" class="label">[255]</a> Bradford, Mount, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_256" href="#FNanchor_256" class="label">[256]</a> Bradford, p. 104. Felt, Hist. of New England, vol. 1, pp.
64, 65. Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 183.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_257" href="#FNanchor_257" class="label">[257]</a> Bradford, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_258" href="#FNanchor_258" class="label">[258]</a> Ibid., Felt, Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_259" href="#FNanchor_259" class="label">[259]</a> Wilson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_260" href="#FNanchor_260" class="label">[260]</a> Bradford, p. 104. Palfrey, Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_261" href="#FNanchor_261" class="label">[261]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 186.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_262" href="#FNanchor_262" class="label">[262]</a> The word <em>Massachusetts</em> signifies an arrow-shaped hill. It
is supposed to have been given to the surrounding country from
the Blue Hills of Milton, which were formerly called Massachusetts
Mount. See Banvard, p. 65.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_263" href="#FNanchor_263" class="label">[263]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 186. For a fuller account of this expedition,
see Mount in Young, pp. 224-229.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_264" href="#FNanchor_264" class="label">[264]</a> Bradford, p. 105.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_265" href="#FNanchor_265" class="label">[265]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_266" href="#FNanchor_266" class="label">[266]</a> Bradford, p. 105.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_267" href="#FNanchor_267" class="label">[267]</a> Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_268" href="#FNanchor_268" class="label">[268]</a> Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_269" href="#FNanchor_269" class="label">[269]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, pp. 186, 187.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_270" href="#FNanchor_270" class="label">[270]</a> Winslow in Mount, etc., cited in Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 187.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_271" href="#FNanchor_271" class="label">[271]</a> Smith’s Description of New England, cited in Elliot, vol. 1,
p. 77.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_272" href="#FNanchor_272" class="label">[272]</a> Russell’s Pilgrims’ Memorial, p. 131. Young’s Chronicles,
p. 232.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_273" href="#FNanchor_273" class="label">[273]</a> Mount, in Young, pp. 224-229. Russell’s Pilgrim’s Manual,
p. 153.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_274" href="#FNanchor_274" class="label">[274]</a> Bradford, Elliot, Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_275" href="#FNanchor_275" class="label">[275]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 79.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_276" href="#FNanchor_276" class="label">[276]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 190.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_277" href="#FNanchor_277" class="label">[277]</a> Ibid. Peckham’s Life of Nicholas Ferrar. London, 1852.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_278" href="#FNanchor_278" class="label">[278]</a> Gorge’s Brief Narrative, chap. 16.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_279" href="#FNanchor_279" class="label">[279]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 193.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_280" href="#FNanchor_280" class="label">[280]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_281" href="#FNanchor_281" class="label">[281]</a> “It was dated June 1, 1621, and is interesting, as being the first
grant made by the great Plymouth company. ’Twas first printed
in 1854, in 4th Mass. Hist. Coll., vol. 11. The original is now at
Plymouth. ’Tis probably the oldest document in Massachusetts
officially connected with her history,” Bradford, Ed. note, pp.
107, 108.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_282" href="#FNanchor_282" class="label">[282]</a> Bradford, p. 107, Russell, Morton, Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_283" href="#FNanchor_283" class="label">[283]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_284" href="#FNanchor_284" class="label">[284]</a> Bradford, pp. 108, 109.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_285" href="#FNanchor_285" class="label">[285]</a> Elliot, Felt, Banvard, Mount in Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_286" href="#FNanchor_286" class="label">[286]</a> Bradford, p. 108. About twenty-five hundred dollars.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_287" href="#FNanchor_287" class="label">[287]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_288" href="#FNanchor_288" class="label">[288]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 197. Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_289" href="#FNanchor_289" class="label">[289]</a> Dr. Young has reprinted it in his Chronicles, p. 262, <span lang="la">et seq.</span></p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_290" href="#FNanchor_290" class="label">[290]</a> Cushman, cited in Felt, vol. 1, p. 67.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_291" href="#FNanchor_291" class="label">[291]</a> Winslow’s Good News, London, 1624.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_292" href="#FNanchor_292" class="label">[292]</a> “Captain Smith describes the Virginia settlers as made up of
forty-eight needy ‘gentlemen’ to four carpenters, who were come
to do nothing else ‘but dig gold, make gold, refine gold, and load
gold.’” Elliot, vol. 1, p. 79, note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_293" href="#FNanchor_293" class="label">[293]</a> Cited in Elliot, vol. 1, pp. 79, 80.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_294" href="#FNanchor_294" class="label">[294]</a> Winslow, in Young’s Chronicles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_295" href="#FNanchor_295" class="label">[295]</a> Wilson, p. 389. Felt, vol. 1, p. 67.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_296" href="#FNanchor_296" class="label">[296]</a> Smith, New England’s Trials. Prince, vol. 1, p. 115.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_297" href="#FNanchor_297" class="label">[297]</a> Bradford, Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_298" href="#FNanchor_298" class="label">[298]</a> Bradford, Mount in Young, Russell.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_299" href="#FNanchor_299" class="label">[299]</a> Ibid. Prince, vol. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_300" href="#FNanchor_300" class="label">[300]</a> Bradford, p. 106.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_301" href="#FNanchor_301" class="label">[301]</a> Bradford, p. 110.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_302" href="#FNanchor_302" class="label">[302]</a> White’s Incidents, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_303" href="#FNanchor_303" class="label">[303]</a> White’s Incidents, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_304" href="#FNanchor_304" class="label">[304]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, pp. 187-189.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_305" href="#FNanchor_305" class="label">[305]</a> Chap. 7, p. 106.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_306" href="#FNanchor_306" class="label">[306]</a> Winslow in Brief Narration, in Hypocrisie Unmasked, p. 393.
Also, Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 189, note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_307" href="#FNanchor_307" class="label">[307]</a> Bradford, p. 106.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_308" href="#FNanchor_308" class="label">[308]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 189.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_309" href="#FNanchor_309" class="label">[309]</a> Bradford, p. 112.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_310" href="#FNanchor_310" class="label">[310]</a> Allen’s Biog. Dict. Thatcher’s Plymouth, p. 77.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_311" href="#FNanchor_311" class="label">[311]</a> Chap. 7, p. 108.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_312" href="#FNanchor_312" class="label">[312]</a> Morton’s Memorial, Prince’s Annals, Hall’s Plymouth Records.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_313" href="#FNanchor_313" class="label">[313]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_314" href="#FNanchor_314" class="label">[314]</a> Ibid. Elliot, vol. 1, p. 109.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_315" href="#FNanchor_315" class="label">[315]</a> Hall, Prince, Thatcher.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_316" href="#FNanchor_316" class="label">[316]</a> Elliott, vol. 1, p. 110.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_317" href="#FNanchor_317" class="label">[317]</a> Graham, vol. 1. Massachusetts Historical Records. Hazard,
vol. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_318" href="#FNanchor_318" class="label">[318]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_319" href="#FNanchor_319" class="label">[319]</a> Thatcher’s Plymouth.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_320" href="#FNanchor_320" class="label">[320]</a> Graham, vol. 1, p. 230.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_321" href="#FNanchor_321" class="label">[321]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, pp. 112, 113.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_322" href="#FNanchor_322" class="label">[322]</a> Plymouth Records. Hazard, vol. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_323" href="#FNanchor_323" class="label">[323]</a> Plymouth Records. Hazard, vol. 1. Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_324" href="#FNanchor_324" class="label">[324]</a> Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_325" href="#FNanchor_325" class="label">[325]</a> Thatcher’s Plymouth, Morton’s Memorials, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_326" href="#FNanchor_326" class="label">[326]</a> Book of Laws of New Plymouth, 1671.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_327" href="#FNanchor_327" class="label">[327]</a> Laws of New Plymouth, cited in Elliot, vol. 1, p. 111.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_328" href="#FNanchor_328" class="label">[328]</a> Prince, Annals, vol. 1, pp. 76, 98, 103, 105. Bradford, p. 101.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_329" href="#FNanchor_329" class="label">[329]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_330" href="#FNanchor_330" class="label">[330]</a> Ruth, chap. 4.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_331" href="#FNanchor_331" class="label">[331]</a> Bradford, p. 101.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_332" href="#FNanchor_332" class="label">[332]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 196.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_333" href="#FNanchor_333" class="label">[333]</a> This seal was dated 1620, and circumscribed with the words,
“Sigillum Societatis Plymouth, Nov. Anglia.”</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_334" href="#FNanchor_334" class="label">[334]</a> Winslow’s Good News from New England.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_335" href="#FNanchor_335" class="label">[335]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_336" href="#FNanchor_336" class="label">[336]</a> Winslow’s Good News from New England. Banvard, p. 70.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_337" href="#FNanchor_337" class="label">[337]</a> Winslow in Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_338" href="#FNanchor_338" class="label">[338]</a> Ibid. Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_339" href="#FNanchor_339" class="label">[339]</a> Winslow in Young, Banvard, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_340" href="#FNanchor_340" class="label">[340]</a> Winslow in Young, Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_341" href="#FNanchor_341" class="label">[341]</a> Ibid., Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_342" href="#FNanchor_342" class="label">[342]</a> Bradford, pp. 111, 112.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_343" href="#FNanchor_343" class="label">[343]</a> Banvard, p. 72.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_344" href="#FNanchor_344" class="label">[344]</a> Longfellow’s Miles Standish’s Courtship, pp. 9-12.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_345" href="#FNanchor_345" class="label">[345]</a> Winslow in Young, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_346" href="#FNanchor_346" class="label">[346]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_347" href="#FNanchor_347" class="label">[347]</a> Bradford, p. 113.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_348" href="#FNanchor_348" class="label">[348]</a> Ibid. Winslow.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_349" href="#FNanchor_349" class="label">[349]</a> Ibid. Young’s Chronicles. Thatcher’s Plymouth.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_350" href="#FNanchor_350" class="label">[350]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_351" href="#FNanchor_351" class="label">[351]</a> Prince.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_352" href="#FNanchor_352" class="label">[352]</a> Bradford, p. 113.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_353" href="#FNanchor_353" class="label">[353]</a> Banvard, pp. 76, 77.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_354" href="#FNanchor_354" class="label">[354]</a> Banvard, pp. 76, 77.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_355" href="#FNanchor_355" class="label">[355]</a> Winslow in Young. Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_356" href="#FNanchor_356" class="label">[356]</a> Bradford, p. 114.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_357" href="#FNanchor_357" class="label">[357]</a> Ibid., p. 124.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_358" href="#FNanchor_358" class="label">[358]</a> Ibid., 114.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_359" href="#FNanchor_359" class="label">[359]</a> Bradford, p. 114.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_360" href="#FNanchor_360" class="label">[360]</a> Cited in Bradford, pp. 115, 116.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_361" href="#FNanchor_361" class="label">[361]</a> Bradford, p. 116. By the third article of the agreement, this
was permitted to be done by general consent. See Bradford, p. 46.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_362" href="#FNanchor_362" class="label">[362]</a> Chap. 10, p. 137.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_363" href="#FNanchor_363" class="label">[363]</a> Psalm 118:8.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_364" href="#FNanchor_364" class="label">[364]</a> Ibid. 146:3.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_365" href="#FNanchor_365" class="label">[365]</a> Ibid. verse 5.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_366" href="#FNanchor_366" class="label">[366]</a> Bradford, pp. 116, 117.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_367" href="#FNanchor_367" class="label">[367]</a> Smith’s General History, folio ed., p. 236. Winslow in
Young, p. 296.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_368" href="#FNanchor_368" class="label">[368]</a> Cited <i lang="la">in extenso</i> in Bradford, pp. 118, 119.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_369" href="#FNanchor_369" class="label">[369]</a> Ibid., pp. 119, 120.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_370" href="#FNanchor_370" class="label">[370]</a> Ibid., 122, 123.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_371" href="#FNanchor_371" class="label">[371]</a> Cited <i lang="la">in extenso</i> in Bradford <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_372" href="#FNanchor_372" class="label">[372]</a> The vessels were gone most of the summer.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_373" href="#FNanchor_373" class="label">[373]</a> Bradford, pp. 123, 124.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_374" href="#FNanchor_374" class="label">[374]</a> This massacre occurred on the 22d of March, 1622. Smith
says that three hundred and fifty settlers were slain. General
Hist., pp. 144-149.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_375" href="#FNanchor_375" class="label">[375]</a> Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_376" href="#FNanchor_376" class="label">[376]</a> Bradford, p. 125.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_377" href="#FNanchor_377" class="label">[377]</a> Ibid. Winslow in Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_378" href="#FNanchor_378" class="label">[378]</a> Thatcher’s Plymouth, Prince’s Annals, Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_379" href="#FNanchor_379" class="label">[379]</a> Banvard, p. 82.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_380" href="#FNanchor_380" class="label">[380]</a> Banvard, p. 82.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_381" href="#FNanchor_381" class="label">[381]</a> Pope.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_382" href="#FNanchor_382" class="label">[382]</a> Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_383" href="#FNanchor_383" class="label">[383]</a> Weston in Young, Thatcher, Prince.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_384" href="#FNanchor_384" class="label">[384]</a> Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_385" href="#FNanchor_385" class="label">[385]</a> Cotton Mather, Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 58.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_386" href="#FNanchor_386" class="label">[386]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 200. Prince, Thatcher.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_387" href="#FNanchor_387" class="label">[387]</a> Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_388" href="#FNanchor_388" class="label">[388]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_389" href="#FNanchor_389" class="label">[389]</a> Thatcher, Winslow in Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_390" href="#FNanchor_390" class="label">[390]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_391" href="#FNanchor_391" class="label">[391]</a> Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_392" href="#FNanchor_392" class="label">[392]</a> Banvard, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_393" href="#FNanchor_393" class="label">[393]</a> Thatcher, Winslow in Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_394" href="#FNanchor_394" class="label">[394]</a> Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_395" href="#FNanchor_395" class="label">[395]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_396" href="#FNanchor_396" class="label">[396]</a> Cited in Russell’s Guide to Plymouth, p. 143.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_397" href="#FNanchor_397" class="label">[397]</a> Winslow in Young. Thatcher, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_398" href="#FNanchor_398" class="label">[398]</a> Prince, Hubbard, Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_399" href="#FNanchor_399" class="label">[399]</a> Cotton Mather, Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 66.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_400" href="#FNanchor_400" class="label">[400]</a> Winslow in Young. Bradford, p. 131.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_401" href="#FNanchor_401" class="label">[401]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_402" href="#FNanchor_402" class="label">[402]</a> Ibid. Banvard, p. 95.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_403" href="#FNanchor_403" class="label">[403]</a> Banvard, Winslow’s Good News, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_404" href="#FNanchor_404" class="label">[404]</a> “Mr. Baylies, in his Memoirs of Plymouth, assumes that
this was the great Hampden, vol. 1, p. 410. I find no facts sufficient
to sustain that opinion.” Elliot, vol. 1, p. 93, note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_405" href="#FNanchor_405" class="label">[405]</a> Elliot, Banvard, Winslow.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_406" href="#FNanchor_406" class="label">[406]</a> Winslow’s Good News.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_407" href="#FNanchor_407" class="label">[407]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_408" href="#FNanchor_408" class="label">[408]</a> Winslow’s Good News.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_409" href="#FNanchor_409" class="label">[409]</a> Banvard, pp. 95, 96.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_410" href="#FNanchor_410" class="label">[410]</a> Winslow’s Good News.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_411" href="#FNanchor_411" class="label">[411]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_412" href="#FNanchor_412" class="label">[412]</a> Winslow’s Good News.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_413" href="#FNanchor_413" class="label">[413]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_414" href="#FNanchor_414" class="label">[414]</a> Banvard, pp. 101, 102.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_415" href="#FNanchor_415" class="label">[415]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_416" href="#FNanchor_416" class="label">[416]</a> Banvard, p. 102.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_417" href="#FNanchor_417" class="label">[417]</a> Winslow’s Good News.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_418" href="#FNanchor_418" class="label">[418]</a> Bradford, p. 131.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_419" href="#FNanchor_419" class="label">[419]</a> Bradford, pp. 130, 131.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_420" href="#FNanchor_420" class="label">[420]</a> Winslow’s Good News.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_421" href="#FNanchor_421" class="label">[421]</a> Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_422" href="#FNanchor_422" class="label">[422]</a> Banvard, p. 116.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_423" href="#FNanchor_423" class="label">[423]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_424" href="#FNanchor_424" class="label">[424]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_425" href="#FNanchor_425" class="label">[425]</a> Shakspeare.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_426" href="#FNanchor_426" class="label">[426]</a> Winslow, cited in Banvard, p. 120.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_427" href="#FNanchor_427" class="label">[427]</a> Winslow, Elliot, Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_428" href="#FNanchor_428" class="label">[428]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_429" href="#FNanchor_429" class="label">[429]</a> Winslow, Bradford, Thatcher.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_430" href="#FNanchor_430" class="label">[430]</a> Winslow, Bradford, Thatcher.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_431" href="#FNanchor_431" class="label">[431]</a> Morton, Young’s Chronicles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_432" href="#FNanchor_432" class="label">[432]</a> Bancroft, Hist. United States, vol. 1, p. 319.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_433" href="#FNanchor_433" class="label">[433]</a> Fountain’s Rewards of Virtue.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_434" href="#FNanchor_434" class="label">[434]</a> Bradford, p. 133.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_435" href="#FNanchor_435" class="label">[435]</a> Winslow in Young. Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_436" href="#FNanchor_436" class="label">[436]</a> Bradford, pp. 133, 134.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_437" href="#FNanchor_437" class="label">[437]</a> In the latter part of 1623, Weston went to Virginia; thence
he returned to England, where he disappears from history. Palfrey,
vol. 1, p. 207.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_438" href="#FNanchor_438" class="label">[438]</a> Judge Davis, note on Morton’s Memorial.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_439" href="#FNanchor_439" class="label">[439]</a> Winslow in Young, p. 346. Palfrey, Thatcher, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_440" href="#FNanchor_440" class="label">[440]</a> Winslow in Young, p. 346. Palfrey, Thatcher, Banvard, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_441" href="#FNanchor_441" class="label">[441]</a> Bradford, pp. 135, 136.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_442" href="#FNanchor_442" class="label">[442]</a> Ibid., p. 136.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_443" href="#FNanchor_443" class="label">[443]</a> Bradford, p. 136.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_444" href="#FNanchor_444" class="label">[444]</a> White’s Incidents, p. 41.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_445" href="#FNanchor_445" class="label">[445]</a> Winslow in Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_446" href="#FNanchor_446" class="label">[446]</a> White’s Incidents, p. 42.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_447" href="#FNanchor_447" class="label">[447]</a> Banvard, Thatcher, Morton’s Memorial.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_448" href="#FNanchor_448" class="label">[448]</a> Chap. 10, p. 137.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_449" href="#FNanchor_449" class="label">[449]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 320. Bradford, p. 138.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_450" href="#FNanchor_450" class="label">[450]</a> Morton’s Memorial, pp. 95-97. Palfrey, vol. 1, pp. 210, 211.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_451" href="#FNanchor_451" class="label">[451]</a> “Pierce sold his patent for five hundred pounds; he gave fifty
for it.” Banvard, p. 133. See Palfrey, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>, on this point.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_452" href="#FNanchor_452" class="label">[452]</a> Cotton Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 60.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_453" href="#FNanchor_453" class="label">[453]</a> Cited in extenso in Bradford, pp. 139, 140.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_454" href="#FNanchor_454" class="label">[454]</a> Bradford, p. 141. Winslow in Young.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_455" href="#FNanchor_455" class="label">[455]</a> Banvard, p. 134.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_456" href="#FNanchor_456" class="label">[456]</a> Morton’s Memorial, Thatcher, Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_457" href="#FNanchor_457" class="label">[457]</a> Bradford, p. 146.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_458" href="#FNanchor_458" class="label">[458]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, pp. 211, 212.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_459" href="#FNanchor_459" class="label">[459]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 60.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_460" href="#FNanchor_460" class="label">[460]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 212, note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_461" href="#FNanchor_461" class="label">[461]</a> Bradford, p. 145.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_462" href="#FNanchor_462" class="label">[462]</a> Ibid., pp. 145, 146.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_463" href="#FNanchor_463" class="label">[463]</a> Prince, Morton’s Memorial, Bradford, Thatcher’s Plymouth.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_464" href="#FNanchor_464" class="label">[464]</a> Bradford, p. 147.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_465" href="#FNanchor_465" class="label">[465]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_466" href="#FNanchor_466" class="label">[466]</a> Bradford, p. 148.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_467" href="#FNanchor_467" class="label">[467]</a> Felt, Hist. New England, Prince, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_468" href="#FNanchor_468" class="label">[468]</a> Felt, Bradford, Morton’s Memorial, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_469" href="#FNanchor_469" class="label">[469]</a> Felt, vol. 1, p. 77.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_470" href="#FNanchor_470" class="label">[470]</a> Bradford, p. 149.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_471" href="#FNanchor_471" class="label">[471]</a> Ibid. Morton’s Memorial.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_472" href="#FNanchor_472" class="label">[472]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_473" href="#FNanchor_473" class="label">[473]</a> Felt.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_474" href="#FNanchor_474" class="label">[474]</a> Ibid. Bradford, Morton’s Memorial.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_475" href="#FNanchor_475" class="label">[475]</a> Felt, vol. 1, p. 78.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_476" href="#FNanchor_476" class="label">[476]</a> Cited in Felt, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_477" href="#FNanchor_477" class="label">[477]</a> “There were also this year some scattering beginnings made
in other places, as at Piscataway, by Mr. David Thompson, who
was sent over by Mason and Gorges, at Monhegin, and some other
places by sundry others.” Bradford, p. 154.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_478" href="#FNanchor_478" class="label">[478]</a> Prince, Bradford, Pilgrims’ Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_479" href="#FNanchor_479" class="label">[479]</a> Bradford, pp. 156, 157.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_480" href="#FNanchor_480" class="label">[480]</a> Seneca’s Epis. 123.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_481" href="#FNanchor_481" class="label">[481]</a> Phillips’ Letters and Speeches, p. 372.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_482" href="#FNanchor_482" class="label">[482]</a> Prince, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_483" href="#FNanchor_483" class="label">[483]</a> Morton’s Memorial.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_484" href="#FNanchor_484" class="label">[484]</a> Thatcher’s Plymouth, p. 111.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_485" href="#FNanchor_485" class="label">[485]</a> Morton’s Memorial, p. 103.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_486" href="#FNanchor_486" class="label">[486]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 215.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_487" href="#FNanchor_487" class="label">[487]</a> Bradford, pp. 159, 160, 167.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_488" href="#FNanchor_488" class="label">[488]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, pp. 216-219.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_489" href="#FNanchor_489" class="label">[489]</a> Psalm 10:10.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_490" href="#FNanchor_490" class="label">[490]</a> Jeremiah 41:6.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_491" href="#FNanchor_491" class="label">[491]</a> Bradford, p. 171.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_492" href="#FNanchor_492" class="label">[492]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_493" href="#FNanchor_493" class="label">[493]</a> Ibid., p. 172.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_494" href="#FNanchor_494" class="label">[494]</a> Bradford, p. 172. Morton’s Memorial, p. 112.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_495" href="#FNanchor_495" class="label">[495]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_496" href="#FNanchor_496" class="label">[496]</a> Bradford, p. 173.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_497" href="#FNanchor_497" class="label">[497]</a> Bradford, p. 173.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_498" href="#FNanchor_498" class="label">[498]</a> Bradford, p. 175.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_499" href="#FNanchor_499" class="label">[499]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_500" href="#FNanchor_500" class="label">[500]</a> He had a wife and four children. Bradford, p. 175, editor’s
note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_501" href="#FNanchor_501" class="label">[501]</a> Ibid, pp. 175, 176.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_502" href="#FNanchor_502" class="label">[502]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_503" href="#FNanchor_503" class="label">[503]</a> Bradford, pp. 175, 176.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_504" href="#FNanchor_504" class="label">[504]</a> Ibid., p. 182.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_505" href="#FNanchor_505" class="label">[505]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 221, note. Morton’s Memorial, p. 117,
note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_506" href="#FNanchor_506" class="label">[506]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_507" href="#FNanchor_507" class="label">[507]</a> Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_508" href="#FNanchor_508" class="label">[508]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 221.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_509" href="#FNanchor_509" class="label">[509]</a> Winslow, quoted in Palfrey, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_510" href="#FNanchor_510" class="label">[510]</a> Thatcher, Prince, Palfrey, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_511" href="#FNanchor_511" class="label">[511]</a> Bradford, p. 190.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_512" href="#FNanchor_512" class="label">[512]</a> Ibid., p. 192. Morton’s Memorial, p. 120.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_513" href="#FNanchor_513" class="label">[513]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_514" href="#FNanchor_514" class="label">[514]</a> Bradford, p. 192. Morton’s Memorial, p. 120.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_515" href="#FNanchor_515" class="label">[515]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_516" href="#FNanchor_516" class="label">[516]</a> Cheever’s Journal, p. 327. Morton’s Memorial.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_517" href="#FNanchor_517" class="label">[517]</a> Bradford, p. 189.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_518" href="#FNanchor_518" class="label">[518]</a> Ibid., p. 188.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_519" href="#FNanchor_519" class="label">[519]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, pp. 119, 120.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_520" href="#FNanchor_520" class="label">[520]</a> Ibid., p. 116. Prince’s Chronology. Thatcher’s Plymouth.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_521" href="#FNanchor_521" class="label">[521]</a> A Brief Review of the Rise and Progress of New England.
London, 1774.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_522" href="#FNanchor_522" class="label">[522]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 135.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_523" href="#FNanchor_523" class="label">[523]</a> Morton, Prince, Hazard, Bradford, Thatcher, Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_524" href="#FNanchor_524" class="label">[524]</a> Bradford, pp. 202, 203.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_525" href="#FNanchor_525" class="label">[525]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 224.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_526" href="#FNanchor_526" class="label">[526]</a> Hazard, Bradford, Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_527" href="#FNanchor_527" class="label">[527]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_528" href="#FNanchor_528" class="label">[528]</a> Bradford, p. 207.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_529" href="#FNanchor_529" class="label">[529]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 225.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_530" href="#FNanchor_530" class="label">[530]</a> Banvard, p. 151.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_531" href="#FNanchor_531" class="label">[531]</a> Elliot’s Biog. Dict.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_532" href="#FNanchor_532" class="label">[532]</a> Young’s Chronicles, p. 481.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_533" href="#FNanchor_533" class="label">[533]</a> “It is not certain where he lies buried; George Sumner
thinks in St. Peter’s church, Leyden.” Elliot, Hist. New Eng.,
vol. 1, p. 125, note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_534" href="#FNanchor_534" class="label">[534]</a> Stoughton, Heroes of Puritan Times, p. 102.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_535" href="#FNanchor_535" class="label">[535]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 321.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_536" href="#FNanchor_536" class="label">[536]</a> Smith’s General History, p. 247.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_537" href="#FNanchor_537" class="label">[537]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, pp. 221, 222.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_538" href="#FNanchor_538" class="label">[538]</a> Bradford, p. 204.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_539" href="#FNanchor_539" class="label">[539]</a> Pliny, lib. 18, chap. 2.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_540" href="#FNanchor_540" class="label">[540]</a> Bradford, p. 168.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_541" href="#FNanchor_541" class="label">[541]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 225.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_542" href="#FNanchor_542" class="label">[542]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_543" href="#FNanchor_543" class="label">[543]</a> Bradford, Morton’s Memorial.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_544" href="#FNanchor_544" class="label">[544]</a> Felt, Hist. New England, vol. 1, p. 91.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_545" href="#FNanchor_545" class="label">[545]</a> These were Bradford, Brewster, Standish, Allerton, Fuller,
Jeremy, Alden, Howland. Prince, Bradford, Hazard, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_546" href="#FNanchor_546" class="label">[546]</a> Bradford, pp. 212, 213. Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_547" href="#FNanchor_547" class="label">[547]</a> Ibid., p. 214.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_548" href="#FNanchor_548" class="label">[548]</a> Bradford, p. 214.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_549" href="#FNanchor_549" class="label">[549]</a> Ibid., p. 214. Morton’s Memorial.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_550" href="#FNanchor_550" class="label">[550]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_551" href="#FNanchor_551" class="label">[551]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_552" href="#FNanchor_552" class="label">[552]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 229.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_553" href="#FNanchor_553" class="label">[553]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 85.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_554" href="#FNanchor_554" class="label">[554]</a> Bradford, p. 226.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_555" href="#FNanchor_555" class="label">[555]</a> The names of the formers of the trade were: Bradford,
Brewster, Standish, Prince, Alden, Howland, and Allerton. Prince
had come out in the “Fortune,” all the rest in the “Mayflower.”
Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_556" href="#FNanchor_556" class="label">[556]</a> Hazard, Prince, Cheever’s Journal, Thatcher.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_557" href="#FNanchor_557" class="label">[557]</a> These were James Shirley—who became their English agent—John
Beauchamp, Richard Andrews, and T. Hathaway—“the glue
of the old company.” Mass. Hist. Coll., vol. 3, p. 34.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_558" href="#FNanchor_558" class="label">[558]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 230.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_559" href="#FNanchor_559" class="label">[559]</a> Thatcher, Prince, Morton’s Memorial.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_560" href="#FNanchor_560" class="label">[560]</a> Cheever’s Journal. Bradford, p. 243.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_561" href="#FNanchor_561" class="label">[561]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 62.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_562" href="#FNanchor_562" class="label">[562]</a> Cited in Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, pp. 62, 63.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_563" href="#FNanchor_563" class="label">[563]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 321.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_564" href="#FNanchor_564" class="label">[564]</a> Felt’s Hist. of New England, vol. 1, p. 95.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_565" href="#FNanchor_565" class="label">[565]</a> “The Dutch had trading in those southern parts divers years
before the English came, but they began no plantation until after
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">the Pilgrims came and were here seated.” Morton’s Memorial,</span><br>
p. 133, note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_566" href="#FNanchor_566" class="label">[566]</a> Davis’ New Amsterdam, Booth’s History of New York City,
Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_567" href="#FNanchor_567" class="label">[567]</a> Bradford, p. 222, <span lang="la">et seq.</span></p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_568" href="#FNanchor_568" class="label">[568]</a> In Roger Williams’ Key, wampum is considered as Indian
money, and is described in the twenty-fourth chapter of that interesting
tract. Their <em>white</em> money they called <em>wampum</em>, which
signifies <em>white</em>; their <em>black</em>, <em>suckawhack</em>, sucki signifying <em>black</em>.
Hist. Col., vol. 3, p. 231.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_569" href="#FNanchor_569" class="label">[569]</a> Mr. Gookin says: “Wampum is made chiefly by the Narragansett
Block Island Indians. Upon the sandy flats and shores of
those coasts the wilk shell are found.” Hist. Col., vol. 1, p. 152.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_570" href="#FNanchor_570" class="label">[570]</a> Bradford, p. 234.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_571" href="#FNanchor_571" class="label">[571]</a> Mr. Brodhead, who obtained this valuable letter, only summarized
in the text, from the archives at the Hague, gives it in full
in the New York Hist. Col., sec. series, vol. 2, p. 343, <span lang="la">et seq.</span></p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_572" href="#FNanchor_572" class="label">[572]</a> Prince, vol. 1, p. 160. Deane’s Scituate, p. 332. “Mrs. Robinson,
widow of Rev. John Robinson, came over with the latter
company, with her son Isaac, and perhaps with another son.”
Editorial note in Bradford, p. 247. “There was an Abraham Robinson
early at Gloucester, who is surmised to have been a son of
the Leyden minister.” Ibid. It has been thought that Mrs. Robinson
did not remain in Plymouth, but went to Salem, “where
was a Mrs. Robinson very early.” MS. Letters of J. J. Babson,
Esq., of Gloucester, Mass.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_573" href="#FNanchor_573" class="label">[573]</a> Bradford, pp. 247, 248.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_574" href="#FNanchor_574" class="label">[574]</a> Bradford, pp. 247, 248.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_575" href="#FNanchor_575" class="label">[575]</a> Ibid., p. 249.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_576" href="#FNanchor_576" class="label">[576]</a> Bradford’s Letter-Book, in Mass. Hist. Col., vol. 3, pp. 69,
70.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_577" href="#FNanchor_577" class="label">[577]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 233.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_578" href="#FNanchor_578" class="label">[578]</a> Bradford, p. 236.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_579" href="#FNanchor_579" class="label">[579]</a> Morton’s Memorial, pp. 137, 138.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_580" href="#FNanchor_580" class="label">[580]</a> Bradford, Morton’s Memorial, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_581" href="#FNanchor_581" class="label">[581]</a> Vide Harris’ Life of Charles I., p. 278.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_582" href="#FNanchor_582" class="label">[582]</a> Bradford’s Letter-book.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_583" href="#FNanchor_583" class="label">[583]</a> “’Tis not known when Conant came over. Nothing appears
in any of the Plymouth documents to confirm Hubbard’s statement,
that Conant was one of Lyford’s party at Plymouth. Though
historians have adopted that <i lang="la">ipse dixit</i>, it rests on his word alone.
But since Hubbard and Conant were afterwards neighbors and
friends, he is likely to have been well informed.” Palfrey, vol. 1,
p. 255, note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_584" href="#FNanchor_584" class="label">[584]</a> Elliot. Hubbard’s Hist. of New England, chap. 18.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_585" href="#FNanchor_585" class="label">[585]</a> Hubbard, chap. 9. Palfrey, Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_586" href="#FNanchor_586" class="label">[586]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 286.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_587" href="#FNanchor_587" class="label">[587]</a> Elliott, vol. 1, p. 139.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_588" href="#FNanchor_588" class="label">[588]</a> Hubbard, chap. 17.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_589" href="#FNanchor_589" class="label">[589]</a> Conant’s petition of May 28, 1671, in Mass. Hist. Archives.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_590" href="#FNanchor_590" class="label">[590]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 287.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_591" href="#FNanchor_591" class="label">[591]</a> Planters’ Plea, chap. 9.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_592" href="#FNanchor_592" class="label">[592]</a> Cited in Bradford, p. 251.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_593" href="#FNanchor_593" class="label">[593]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, pp. 139, 140.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_594" href="#FNanchor_594" class="label">[594]</a> Planters’ Plea, chap. 9. Johnson’s Wonder-working Providence.
Belknap’s Biography, p. 249. Hubbard’s Hist.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_595" href="#FNanchor_595" class="label">[595]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_596" href="#FNanchor_596" class="label">[596]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, pp. 67, 68.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_597" href="#FNanchor_597" class="label">[597]</a> Charlestown Records, Palfrey, Elliot, Everett’s Address.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_598" href="#FNanchor_598" class="label">[598]</a> Wilson’s Pilgrim Fathers, p. 483.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_599" href="#FNanchor_599" class="label">[599]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 290.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_600" href="#FNanchor_600" class="label">[600]</a> Colony Records. Cradock’s Letter in Young’s Chronicles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_601" href="#FNanchor_601" class="label">[601]</a> Prince; Hazard. Hubbard’s Hist. Memoir of J. Endicott,
Salem, 1847.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_602" href="#FNanchor_602" class="label">[602]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 342.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_603" href="#FNanchor_603" class="label">[603]</a> This is filed in the State-House in Boston, and is printed in
Colony Laws, in Hutchinson’s Call, and in Hazard. Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_604" href="#FNanchor_604" class="label">[604]</a> Palfrey, Wilson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_605" href="#FNanchor_605" class="label">[605]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, pp. 342, 343.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_606" href="#FNanchor_606" class="label">[606]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 291.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_607" href="#FNanchor_607" class="label">[607]</a> Young’s Chronicles, Prince, Mass. Hist. Coll.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_608" href="#FNanchor_608" class="label">[608]</a> Bacon’s Works, vol. 2.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_609" href="#FNanchor_609" class="label">[609]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 346.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_610" href="#FNanchor_610" class="label">[610]</a> Prince’s Chronicles, p. 247.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_611" href="#FNanchor_611" class="label">[611]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_612" href="#FNanchor_612" class="label">[612]</a> Cited in Elliot, vol. 1, p. 142. “In a subsequent letter this
is reiterated thus: ‘We especially desire you to take care that no
tobacco be planted under your government, unless it be some
small quantity for mere necessity, for physic, or the preservation
of health; and that the same be taken privately by old men, and
no other.’” Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_613" href="#FNanchor_613" class="label">[613]</a> Young’s Chronicles, p. 141. Hazard, vol. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_614" href="#FNanchor_614" class="label">[614]</a> Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_615" href="#FNanchor_615" class="label">[615]</a> Ibid., vol. 1, p. 345.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_616" href="#FNanchor_616" class="label">[616]</a> History of the English Puritans, American Tract Society, N.
Y., 1867.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_617" href="#FNanchor_617" class="label">[617]</a> Hist. of the English Puritans, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_618" href="#FNanchor_618" class="label">[618]</a> Hume, Hist. of Eng., vol. 2, p. 253.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_619" href="#FNanchor_619" class="label">[619]</a> Perry, Eccl. Hist., vol. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_620" href="#FNanchor_620" class="label">[620]</a> Mass. Col. Rec., vol. 1. Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_621" href="#FNanchor_621" class="label">[621]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 293.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_622" href="#FNanchor_622" class="label">[622]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 293. Mather’s Magnalia.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_623" href="#FNanchor_623" class="label">[623]</a> Higginson’s New England Plantation. Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_624" href="#FNanchor_624" class="label">[624]</a> Bradford, p. 263. Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 294.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_625" href="#FNanchor_625" class="label">[625]</a> Mather’s Magnalia.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_626" href="#FNanchor_626" class="label">[626]</a> Ibid., vol. 1, p. 68. Palfrey, vol. 1, pp. 294, 295.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_627" href="#FNanchor_627" class="label">[627]</a> Hutchinson’s Coll., 24, 25. Hubbard, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_628" href="#FNanchor_628" class="label">[628]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>. “<em>Ungrateful country of my
birth, thou shall not possess even my lifeless bones.</em>”</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_629" href="#FNanchor_629" class="label">[629]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 74. Uhden, pp. 63, 64.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_630" href="#FNanchor_630" class="label">[630]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 150.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_631" href="#FNanchor_631" class="label">[631]</a> They landed on the 24th of June, 1629. Uhden, Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_632" href="#FNanchor_632" class="label">[632]</a> Higginson’s New England Plantation, pp. 123, 124.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_633" href="#FNanchor_633" class="label">[633]</a> Bradford, pp. 263, 264.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_634" href="#FNanchor_634" class="label">[634]</a> Bradford, pp. 263, 264.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_635" href="#FNanchor_635" class="label">[635]</a> In allusion to the wide-spread charge of Brownism, and bigoted
exclusion of all other sects from Christian fellowship.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_636" href="#FNanchor_636" class="label">[636]</a> Bradford, pp. 264, 265.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_637" href="#FNanchor_637" class="label">[637]</a> Bradford, p. 245.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_638" href="#FNanchor_638" class="label">[638]</a> Higginson’s New England Plantation. Gott’s letter to Bradford;
cited in Bradford, pp. 265, 266.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_639" href="#FNanchor_639" class="label">[639]</a> Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_640" href="#FNanchor_640" class="label">[640]</a> Ibid., Bradford, Gott, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_641" href="#FNanchor_641" class="label">[641]</a> Gott’s Letter to Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_642" href="#FNanchor_642" class="label">[642]</a> Morton’s Memorial, p. 146. Hubbard, Prince.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_643" href="#FNanchor_643" class="label">[643]</a> See the Covenant in Neale’s History of New England, vol. 1,
pp. 141-143. The subordinate church officers were not chosen till
later. See Bradford’s Letter-book.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_644" href="#FNanchor_644" class="label">[644]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 298.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_645" href="#FNanchor_645" class="label">[645]</a> Uhden’s New England Theocracy.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_646" href="#FNanchor_646" class="label">[646]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 348.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_647" href="#FNanchor_647" class="label">[647]</a> Mather’s Magnalia.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_648" href="#FNanchor_648" class="label">[648]</a> Ibid., vol. 1, p. 72.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_649" href="#FNanchor_649" class="label">[649]</a> Ibid., Morton, Prince, Young, Cheever.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_650" href="#FNanchor_650" class="label">[650]</a> Young’s Chronicles, p. 288.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_651" href="#FNanchor_651" class="label">[651]</a> Mass. Col. Rec., vol. 1, p. 408.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_652" href="#FNanchor_652" class="label">[652]</a> Mass. Col. Rec., vol. 1, p. 408.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_653" href="#FNanchor_653" class="label">[653]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 350.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_654" href="#FNanchor_654" class="label">[654]</a> See the <i lang="la">ipsissima verba</i> of the charter, Mass. Hist. Col.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_655" href="#FNanchor_655" class="label">[655]</a> Hutchinson’s Hist. of Mass., vol. 1, p. 13. Bancroft, Grahame.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_656" href="#FNanchor_656" class="label">[656]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_657" href="#FNanchor_657" class="label">[657]</a> Ibid. Young’s Chronicles, p. 88.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_658" href="#FNanchor_658" class="label">[658]</a> Hutchinson, Winthrop, Palfrey, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_659" href="#FNanchor_659" class="label">[659]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_660" href="#FNanchor_660" class="label">[660]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 302.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_661" href="#FNanchor_661" class="label">[661]</a> Cited in Hutchinson, in Winthrop, vol. 1, pp. 359, 360, and
in Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_662" href="#FNanchor_662" class="label">[662]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 310.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_663" href="#FNanchor_663" class="label">[663]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_664" href="#FNanchor_664" class="label">[664]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 107.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_665" href="#FNanchor_665" class="label">[665]</a> See Winthrop’s Life, by R. C. Winthrop, Boston, 1866.
Mather’s Account, Hutchinson’s Sketch, Palfrey, etc., etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_666" href="#FNanchor_666" class="label">[666]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 303.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_667" href="#FNanchor_667" class="label">[667]</a> Ibid. Elliot, Wilson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_668" href="#FNanchor_668" class="label">[668]</a> Winthrop’s Hist. of New England, vol. 1, p. 332.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_669" href="#FNanchor_669" class="label">[669]</a> Mass. Hist. Col. Palfrey, Prince, Mather.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_670" href="#FNanchor_670" class="label">[670]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_671" href="#FNanchor_671" class="label">[671]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 303.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_672" href="#FNanchor_672" class="label">[672]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_673" href="#FNanchor_673" class="label">[673]</a> Hume, Hist. Eng. Mather, Prince.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_674" href="#FNanchor_674" class="label">[674]</a> Archæologia Americana, vol. 3, 47, <span lang="la">et seq.</span> From this work
most of the above facts have been cited.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_675" href="#FNanchor_675" class="label">[675]</a> Formerly the “Eagle;” she was a naval vessel, and carried
twenty-eight guns. She had been recently bought by the Company.
Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_676" href="#FNanchor_676" class="label">[676]</a> Winthrop’s Hist. of New England.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_677" href="#FNanchor_677" class="label">[677]</a> Elliot, vol. 2, pp. 16, 17.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_678" href="#FNanchor_678" class="label">[678]</a> The most common orthography is <em>Arabella</em>, but later writers
almost unanimously reject this spelling, which is founded on the
often erring authority of Mather in the Magnalia, and of Josselyn,
and accept that of John Winthrop in his Diary, of Johnson in the
“Wonder-working Providence,” and of Dudley’s Epistles. All of
these men were personally intimate with Mrs. Johnson, and they
must have known her name. See Winthrop, p. 1, note.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_679" href="#FNanchor_679" class="label">[679]</a> Mather, Winthrop, Palfrey, Elliot, Hutchinson, etc., etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_680" href="#FNanchor_680" class="label">[680]</a> Hist. of the Result of the American Colonies, vol. 1, p. 58.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_681" href="#FNanchor_681" class="label">[681]</a> Winthrop’s Diary.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_682" href="#FNanchor_682" class="label">[682]</a> This address is said to have been drawn by Mr. White. Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_683" href="#FNanchor_683" class="label">[683]</a> Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_684" href="#FNanchor_684" class="label">[684]</a> Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_685" href="#FNanchor_685" class="label">[685]</a> Winthrop’s Diary, p. 31.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_686" href="#FNanchor_686" class="label">[686]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_687" href="#FNanchor_687" class="label">[687]</a> Ibid., Palfrey, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_688" href="#FNanchor_688" class="label">[688]</a> Winthrop’s Journal, p. 32.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_689" href="#FNanchor_689" class="label">[689]</a> Dudley’s letter to the countess of Lincoln, cited in Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_690" href="#FNanchor_690" class="label">[690]</a> Hubbard, Mass. Col. Rec., Archæol. Am.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_691" href="#FNanchor_691" class="label">[691]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_692" href="#FNanchor_692" class="label">[692]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 350.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_693" href="#FNanchor_693" class="label">[693]</a> Hubbard, p. 133.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_694" href="#FNanchor_694" class="label">[694]</a> Ibid. Prince, Winthrop.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_695" href="#FNanchor_695" class="label">[695]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_696" href="#FNanchor_696" class="label">[696]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 77.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_697" href="#FNanchor_697" class="label">[697]</a> Winthrop, vol. 1, p. 34.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_698" href="#FNanchor_698" class="label">[698]</a> Palfrey, Bancroft, Archæol. Am.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_699" href="#FNanchor_699" class="label">[699]</a> Ibid. Mass. Hist. Col.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_700" href="#FNanchor_700" class="label">[700]</a> Dudley’s Letter to the Countess of Lincoln. Prince’s Chronology.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_701" href="#FNanchor_701" class="label">[701]</a> Winthrop’s Hist. of New England. Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_702" href="#FNanchor_702" class="label">[702]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_703" href="#FNanchor_703" class="label">[703]</a> Shawmut, or the Settlement of Boston, p. 2.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_704" href="#FNanchor_704" class="label">[704]</a> Drake’s Hist. of Boston.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_705" href="#FNanchor_705" class="label">[705]</a> Ibid. Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_706" href="#FNanchor_706" class="label">[706]</a> Drake’s Hist. of Boston. Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_707" href="#FNanchor_707" class="label">[707]</a> “Blackstone retained nothing in America of his ministerial
character but his canonical coat. He devoted himself to the cultivation
of the six or seven acres of land which he retained in his
possession, and planted, it is said, the first orchard of apple-trees
in New England. He left Boston because he was annoyed by its
strict sectarian laws. Banishing himself again to the wilderness,
he settled in a place now called Cumberland, on the banks of the
Pawtucket river. Here he built a house in the midst of a park,
planted an orchard near it, and divided his time between study
and labor. He called his retreat “Study Hill,” and resided there
until his death in May, 1675.</p>

<p>“He was a man of a kind and benevolent heart; and when he
went to Providence to preach, as he did occasionally, notwithstanding
his disagreement in opinion with Roger Williams, he would
carry with him some beautiful apples as a present to the children,
who had never seen such fruit before. Indeed, the kind called
Yellow Sweetings were first produced in his orchard; and the
older inhabitants, who had seen apples in England, had never before
seen that sort.” Shawmut, or the Settlement of Boston, p. 27.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_708" href="#FNanchor_708" class="label">[708]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 152.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_709" href="#FNanchor_709" class="label">[709]</a> Bancroft, p. 359. Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 313.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_710" href="#FNanchor_710" class="label">[710]</a> Hutchinson, Prince, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_711" href="#FNanchor_711" class="label">[711]</a> Ibid. Charlestown Records.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_712" href="#FNanchor_712" class="label">[712]</a> Mass. Col. Rec., Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_713" href="#FNanchor_713" class="label">[713]</a> Bancroft, Story, Palfrey. See the Charter, in Massachusetts
Hist. Col.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_714" href="#FNanchor_714" class="label">[714]</a> Winthrop, Hutchinson, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_715" href="#FNanchor_715" class="label">[715]</a> See <a href="#Page_245">chap. 19, pp. 245</a> <span lang="la">et seq.</span></p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_716" href="#FNanchor_716" class="label">[716]</a> Bradford, Winthrop, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_717" href="#FNanchor_717" class="label">[717]</a> On the 19th of Oct.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_718" href="#FNanchor_718" class="label">[718]</a> Winthrop, Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_719" href="#FNanchor_719" class="label">[719]</a> See the charter.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_720" href="#FNanchor_720" class="label">[720]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 359.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_721" href="#FNanchor_721" class="label">[721]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_722" href="#FNanchor_722" class="label">[722]</a> Ibid., p. 360.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_723" href="#FNanchor_723" class="label">[723]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 360.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_724" href="#FNanchor_724" class="label">[724]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, pp. 360, 361.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_725" href="#FNanchor_725" class="label">[725]</a> Uhden’s New Eng. Theocracy, p. 68. Dexter’s Congregationalism.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_726" href="#FNanchor_726" class="label">[726]</a> Ibid., p. 71.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_727" href="#FNanchor_727" class="label">[727]</a> Ibid., Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_728" href="#FNanchor_728" class="label">[728]</a> Ibid. Vide Cambridge Platform.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_729" href="#FNanchor_729" class="label">[729]</a> Vide the Cambridge Platform, 1648. “This Confession of
Faith belongs, indeed, to a later period, but it expresses throughout
the principles of the early colonists unchanged.” Uhden, p. 68.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_730" href="#FNanchor_730" class="label">[730]</a> Wilson’s Pilgrim Fathers, pp. 487, 488.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_731" href="#FNanchor_731" class="label">[731]</a> Winthrop’s Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_732" href="#FNanchor_732" class="label">[732]</a> Elliott, vol. 1, pp. 155, 156.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_733" href="#FNanchor_733" class="label">[733]</a> Longfellow’s Courtship of Miles Standish. See, also, Banvard
and Thatcher.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_734" href="#FNanchor_734" class="label">[734]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 154. Winthrop, Bradford, Prince.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_735" href="#FNanchor_735" class="label">[735]</a> Ibid., p. 68. Banvard, Thatcher, Morton.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_736" href="#FNanchor_736" class="label">[736]</a> Elliott, vol. 1, p. 68. Banvard, Thatcher, Morton. This was
in 1630.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_737" href="#FNanchor_737" class="label">[737]</a> Winthrop’s Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_738" href="#FNanchor_738" class="label">[738]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 329.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_739" href="#FNanchor_739" class="label">[739]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_740" href="#FNanchor_740" class="label">[740]</a> Bradford, p. 294.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_741" href="#FNanchor_741" class="label">[741]</a> Winthrop’s Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_742" href="#FNanchor_742" class="label">[742]</a> Bradford, p. 295.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_743" href="#FNanchor_743" class="label">[743]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_744" href="#FNanchor_744" class="label">[744]</a> Winthrop’s Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_745" href="#FNanchor_745" class="label">[745]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 330.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_746" href="#FNanchor_746" class="label">[746]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 155.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_747" href="#FNanchor_747" class="label">[747]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 103.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_748" href="#FNanchor_748" class="label">[748]</a> Ibid., p. 97.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_749" href="#FNanchor_749" class="label">[749]</a> Orations, N. Y., 1855.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_750" href="#FNanchor_750" class="label">[750]</a> Winthrop’s Hist., vol. 1, p. 97.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_751" href="#FNanchor_751" class="label">[751]</a> Ibid., p. 76.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_752" href="#FNanchor_752" class="label">[752]</a> Eliot spent the first years of his transatlantic life as a preacher
at Roxbury. Here he was engaged with Weld and Richard Mather
in compiling the first book published in New England—“The
Psalms in Metre”—which appeared in 1640. In 1645, he became
deeply interested in the work of evangelizing the Indians, “those
ruins of mankind.” Into this labor he threw his whole heart; and
he never relinquished it until God called him home; for he believed
with the psalmist, that Jehovah was perpetually saying,
“Ask of me, and I will give thee the heathen for thine inheritance.”</p>

<p>Going into the wilderness, he preached his first Indian sermon
in October, 1646, in a wigwam at Nonantum, near Watertown. He
had already familiarized himself with the aboriginal languages;
and since the New England tribes—loosely estimated at a united
membership of forty thousand—were a part of the Algonquin race,
whose tongues were similar, this acquisition was not as difficult as
it might seem. Eliot had the happiness to witness several conversions
as the result of his first essay; and from that moment
he worked on with a resolution and self-abnegation above all
earthly praise. The “Apostle,” as he soon came to be called, at
once commenced several translations. Two catechisms were done
into the Indian dialects. A primer, the Psalms, and Baxter’s Call,
followed; and finally, an Indian Bible, a marvellous monument of
patience, industry, and faith, appeared in 1663. Of course, this
work necessitated money. Eliot appealed for aid. The English
Parliament granted, in 1649, a special sum for the promotion of the
gospel among the aborigines. Large collections were made throughout
England for the same purpose; and even infant Boston contributed
twenty-five hundred dollars in its poverty. The zeal of
Eliot and the funds of the godly were not in vain expended. A
number of Indians were hopefully converted, and these were colonized
into separate towns. The chief seat of the “praying Indians”
was Natick, settled by them in 1651. There Eliot erected
his headquarters; and he gave his converts “the same advice as
to government that Jethro gave to Moses; so they assembled, and
chose their rulers of hundreds, fifties, and tens, and proclaimed,
‘that God should rule over them.’” Their houses were Indian
cabins, built of bark, except the meeting-house, which was fashioned
after the churches of the pale-faces. In this latter building
Eliot had a bed and a room. Natick then contained one hundred
and fifty-two persons. Eliot saw that civilization was necessary for
his dusky <i lang="fr">protégés</i>, both as a bond of union and as a fulcrum for his
gospel lever. He knew also that responsibility educates. So he
was careful to induct into offices of honor and responsibility those
of his converts who seemed the most trusty, energetic, and intelligent.
Such commissions were highly esteemed by the Indians,
and sometimes they performed their official duty with amusing formality.
On one occasion, a native magistrate named Hihoudi,
issued the following warrant, directed to an Indian constable: “I,
Hihoudi, you, Peter Waterman. Jeremy Wisket,—quick you take
him, fast you hold him, straight you bring him before me. Hihoudi!”</p>

<p>Natick was a nucleus settlement. Soon a number of supplementary
colonies were grouped about it, and these embraced, some
sixty, some seventy, some eighty, “praying Indians,” all provided
with churches, schools, and the rude initial apparatus of civilization.
In 1674, there were eleven hundred Christian Indians who
were possessed of fixed homes within the jurisdiction of Massachusetts.
And Eliot enumerated twenty-five hundred more to Boyle,
as settled in Plymouth, Nantucket, and Martha’s Vineyard. The
usual exercises were praying, reading the Bible, and preaching—sometimes
by a white teacher, sometimes by a native missionary.
Then all united in singing; and we are told that “sundry could
manage to do so very well.” After this, some were catechized.
Then, says Eliot, “if there was any act of public discipline—as
divers times there was, since ignorance and partial barbarism made
many stumblers—the offender was called forth, exhorted to give
glory to God, and urged to confess his sins.” King Philip’s war
partially paralyzed these efforts of Eliot and his compeers; it robbed
them of the sympathy of the whites, and roughened their path;
but they persevered; and even after Eliot’s decease, in 1690, God
put it into the hearts of some to carry on his work, and efforts continued
to be made towards the evangelization of the natives as far
down as the year 1754. At that time the Rev. Mr. Hawley was
“set apart” for that special work, in the “Old South Church,” in
Boston, and Deacon Woodbridge and Jonathan Edwards were enlisted
in the same good cause. Roger Williams had been an active
co-worker with Eliot, and a little later the Mayhews gleaned their
rich harvest at Martha’s Vineyard. Indeed, the Mayhews were so
successful that on the single little island where they labored, six
meetings were held in as many different places every Sabbath, and
there were ten native preachers, who, according to the testimony
of Thomas Mayhew, were of “good knowledge and holy conversation.”</p>

<p>But the missionaries did not find it plain sailing. Besides the
incessant jealousy between the whites and the aborigines, they
had to encounter the natural repugnance of the Indian to desert
the blind faith of his fathers and accept the God and Saviour of
the white men. Massasoit, spite of his friendship for the whites,
lived and died a strict unbeliever. Philip, his son, was equally
obstinate, saying on one occasion, after listening to an exhortation
from Eliot, and placing his hand on a button on the Apostle’s coat:
“I care no more for the gospel than I care for that button.” The
Narragansetts went so far as to prohibit preaching within their
borders. Yet still the missionaries went on, and, with God’s blessing,
they harvested many souls, long before good Bishop Berkeley
launched his noble but abortive scheme for the conversion of
the red men. Those readers who are desirous of studying this
subject in detail, are referred to Sparks’ Life of Eliot; Mayhew’s
Indian experiences; Mansell’s recent reprint at Albany of tracts
concerning Eliot’s Indian missions; R. Williams’ Key; Hubbard’s
Hist.; Mather’s Magnalia; Gookin, in Mass. Hist. Col., etc., etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_753" href="#FNanchor_753" class="label">[753]</a> Ibid., p. 49. He came February 11, 1630.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_754" href="#FNanchor_754" class="label">[754]</a> Wood’s New England Prospect, p. 4.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_755" href="#FNanchor_755" class="label">[755]</a> J. Macpherson’s America Dissected, 1752.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_756" href="#FNanchor_756" class="label">[756]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 323. These were Salem, Charlestown, Watertown,
Boston, Roxbury, Dorchester, Mystic, and Saugus.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_757" href="#FNanchor_757" class="label">[757]</a> Bradford, p. 311.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_758" href="#FNanchor_758" class="label">[758]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_759" href="#FNanchor_759" class="label">[759]</a> Prince, Bancroft, Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_760" href="#FNanchor_760" class="label">[760]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, chap. 2. passim.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_761" href="#FNanchor_761" class="label">[761]</a> Brodhead’s Hist. of New York. Dunlap.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_762" href="#FNanchor_762" class="label">[762]</a> Chalmers, Hening.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_763" href="#FNanchor_763" class="label">[763]</a> Thatcher’s Plymouth.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_764" href="#FNanchor_764" class="label">[764]</a> Bradford, pp. 255-310.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_765" href="#FNanchor_765" class="label">[765]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 336.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_766" href="#FNanchor_766" class="label">[766]</a> Bradford, p. 301.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_767" href="#FNanchor_767" class="label">[767]</a> Chap. 21, p. 264.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_768" href="#FNanchor_768" class="label">[768]</a> Bradford, p. 263.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_769" href="#FNanchor_769" class="label">[769]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 119. Young’s Chronicles, Morton’s Memorials,
etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_770" href="#FNanchor_770" class="label">[770]</a> Bradford, p. 263. Morton.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_771" href="#FNanchor_771" class="label">[771]</a> The old form of expression for <em>exhort</em> or <em>expound</em>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_772" href="#FNanchor_772" class="label">[772]</a> Now called “North river,” near Scituate. Massachusetts
Hist. Col. 4.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_773" href="#FNanchor_773" class="label">[773]</a> Winthrop, vol. 1, pp. 108-111.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_774" href="#FNanchor_774" class="label">[774]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 337. Hubbard, Prince.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_775" href="#FNanchor_775" class="label">[775]</a> Bradford, p. 294.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_776" href="#FNanchor_776" class="label">[776]</a> Ibid., p. 311. Winthrop, Hubbard, Thatcher.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_777" href="#FNanchor_777" class="label">[777]</a> Brodhead’s N. Y.; the Dutch claim to have discovered it.
Brodhead.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_778" href="#FNanchor_778" class="label">[778]</a> Bradford, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_779" href="#FNanchor_779" class="label">[779]</a> Trumbull’s Connecticut.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_780" href="#FNanchor_780" class="label">[780]</a> Winthrop, vol. 1, p. 52.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_781" href="#FNanchor_781" class="label">[781]</a> Bradford, p. 312.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_782" href="#FNanchor_782" class="label">[782]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_783" href="#FNanchor_783" class="label">[783]</a> Brodhead’s N. Y., Bradford, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_784" href="#FNanchor_784" class="label">[784]</a> Ibid., Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_785" href="#FNanchor_785" class="label">[785]</a> Brodhead’s N. Y., Bradford, Hubbard, Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_786" href="#FNanchor_786" class="label">[786]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 340.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_787" href="#FNanchor_787" class="label">[787]</a> Winthrop, vol. 1, pp. 105-113. Bradford, pp. 311-314. Brodhead,
Hist. N. Y., vol. 1, pp. 235-242.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_788" href="#FNanchor_788" class="label">[788]</a> “The insect here described,” remarks Judge Davis, “is the
<i lang="la">Cicada Septendecim</i> of Linnæus, commonly called the <em>locust</em>. They
have frequently appeared since, indicated by Linnæus’ specific
name.” Davis’ edition of the Mem., p. 171.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_789" href="#FNanchor_789" class="label">[789]</a> Bradford, pp. 314, 315.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_790" href="#FNanchor_790" class="label">[790]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, pp. 160, 161. Hist. Eng. Puritans, Am. Tract
Soc., N. Y., 1866. Arch. Am. Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 97.
Rev. J. S. M. Anderson’s Hist. of the Col. Chh. of the B. Emp.,
vol. 1, p. 175, note. The fact of this embarkation of Cromwell
and Hampden has been questioned by some careful writers. See
Forster’s British Statesmen, in loco. Also, Sanford’s Ill. of the
Fr. Rev., Lond., 1858.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_791" href="#FNanchor_791" class="label">[791]</a> Hutchinson, vol. 1, p. 93.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_792" href="#FNanchor_792" class="label">[792]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 362.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_793" href="#FNanchor_793" class="label">[793]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 265.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_794" href="#FNanchor_794" class="label">[794]</a> Bancroft, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_795" href="#FNanchor_795" class="label">[795]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 363.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_796" href="#FNanchor_796" class="label">[796]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, pp. 265, 266.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_797" href="#FNanchor_797" class="label">[797]</a> Ibid, p. 277.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_798" href="#FNanchor_798" class="label">[798]</a> Ibid., 276.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_799" href="#FNanchor_799" class="label">[799]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 343. Mr. Stone was his assistant.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_800" href="#FNanchor_800" class="label">[800]</a> Bancroft, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_801" href="#FNanchor_801" class="label">[801]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 346.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_802" href="#FNanchor_802" class="label">[802]</a> Ibid., p. 345.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_803" href="#FNanchor_803" class="label">[803]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_804" href="#FNanchor_804" class="label">[804]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 345.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_805" href="#FNanchor_805" class="label">[805]</a> See the Charter.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_806" href="#FNanchor_806" class="label">[806]</a> Chap. 21, pp. 260, 261; also chap. 27, p. 342.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_807" href="#FNanchor_807" class="label">[807]</a> Winthrop’s Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_808" href="#FNanchor_808" class="label">[808]</a> Colony Records. Winthrop.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_809" href="#FNanchor_809" class="label">[809]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_810" href="#FNanchor_810" class="label">[810]</a> Winthrop, Hutchinson, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_811" href="#FNanchor_811" class="label">[811]</a> Ibid., Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_812" href="#FNanchor_812" class="label">[812]</a> Elliot, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_813" href="#FNanchor_813" class="label">[813]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 365.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_814" href="#FNanchor_814" class="label">[814]</a> Bossuét.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_815" href="#FNanchor_815" class="label">[815]</a> Reply to Whitgift, cited by Stowell in his History of England.
Puritans.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_816" href="#FNanchor_816" class="label">[816]</a> “Bloody Tenet;” see Cotton’s Controversy with Roger Williams.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_817" href="#FNanchor_817" class="label">[817]</a> Rev. Mr. Ward, in 1647.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_818" href="#FNanchor_818" class="label">[818]</a> Cited in Elliot, vol. 1, p. 190.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_819" href="#FNanchor_819" class="label">[819]</a> Knowles’ Life of Roger Williams.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_820" href="#FNanchor_820" class="label">[820]</a> Knowles, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>. Colony Records, C. Mather, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_821" href="#FNanchor_821" class="label">[821]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, pp. 367, 368.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_822" href="#FNanchor_822" class="label">[822]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 188. Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 406, <span lang="la">et seq.</span></p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_823" href="#FNanchor_823" class="label">[823]</a> Winthrop, vol. 1, p. 53.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_824" href="#FNanchor_824" class="label">[824]</a> See Williams’ “Hireling Ministry.”</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_825" href="#FNanchor_825" class="label">[825]</a> Bradford, p. 310.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_826" href="#FNanchor_826" class="label">[826]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 2, p. 495.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_827" href="#FNanchor_827" class="label">[827]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_828" href="#FNanchor_828" class="label">[828]</a> Winthrop, Hubbard, Mather’s Magnalia, Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_829" href="#FNanchor_829" class="label">[829]</a> Winthrop’s Journal, pp. 63, 64.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_830" href="#FNanchor_830" class="label">[830]</a> Knowles’ Life, Savage on Winthrop, Magnalia, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_831" href="#FNanchor_831" class="label">[831]</a> Bradford, p. 310.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_832" href="#FNanchor_832" class="label">[832]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_833" href="#FNanchor_833" class="label">[833]</a> Morton’s Memorial, p. 151. Bradford, p. 310.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_834" href="#FNanchor_834" class="label">[834]</a> Prince, Elliot, Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_835" href="#FNanchor_835" class="label">[835]</a> Cited in Elliot, vol. 1, p. 199. Banvard, p. 160.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_836" href="#FNanchor_836" class="label">[836]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_837" href="#FNanchor_837" class="label">[837]</a> Palfrey, Knowles. Winthrop, vol. 1, pp. 143, 144.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_838" href="#FNanchor_838" class="label">[838]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, pp. 197, 198.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_839" href="#FNanchor_839" class="label">[839]</a> Knowles’ Life of Williams, Mather’s Magnalia, Dwight’s
Tracts, ante chaps. 21 and 26, pp. 260, 261.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_840" href="#FNanchor_840" class="label">[840]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 368.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_841" href="#FNanchor_841" class="label">[841]</a> Winthrop, vol. 1, pp. 145, 146. Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 409.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_842" href="#FNanchor_842" class="label">[842]</a> See 1 Corinthians 11:5.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_843" href="#FNanchor_843" class="label">[843]</a> Magnalia. Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 409.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_844" href="#FNanchor_844" class="label">[844]</a> A writ requiring a person to show by what right he is doing
a special thing.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_845" href="#FNanchor_845" class="label">[845]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 200. Bancroft, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_846" href="#FNanchor_846" class="label">[846]</a> Ibid., Hutchinson, Knowles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_847" href="#FNanchor_847" class="label">[847]</a> Williams’ connection with this act is but distant and oblique,
if he had any. See Knowles, Winthrop, Hubbard, Palfrey,
etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_848" href="#FNanchor_848" class="label">[848]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 201.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_849" href="#FNanchor_849" class="label">[849]</a> Williams’ “Bloody Tenet.”</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_850" href="#FNanchor_850" class="label">[850]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_851" href="#FNanchor_851" class="label">[851]</a> Felt’s Hist. of New England, vol. 1, p. 175.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_852" href="#FNanchor_852" class="label">[852]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, pp. 372, 373.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_853" href="#FNanchor_853" class="label">[853]</a> Winthrop, Hutchinson, Hubbard, Knowles, Elton’s Life.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_854" href="#FNanchor_854" class="label">[854]</a> Bancroft, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_855" href="#FNanchor_855" class="label">[855]</a> Winthrop, Colonial Records, Knowles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_856" href="#FNanchor_856" class="label">[856]</a> Winthrop, Colony Records, Knowles.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_857" href="#FNanchor_857" class="label">[857]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 377.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_858" href="#FNanchor_858" class="label">[858]</a> Ibid., Hubbard, Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_859" href="#FNanchor_859" class="label">[859]</a> Knowles, Elton’s Life, Hutchinson, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_860" href="#FNanchor_860" class="label">[860]</a> Roger Williams in Mass. Hist. Col., vol. 1, p. 276.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_861" href="#FNanchor_861" class="label">[861]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_862" href="#FNanchor_862" class="label">[862]</a> Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_863" href="#FNanchor_863" class="label">[863]</a> Knowles, Elliot, Judge Durfee’s poem, “What Cheer?”</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_864" href="#FNanchor_864" class="label">[864]</a> Knowles, p. 270.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_865" href="#FNanchor_865" class="label">[865]</a> Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_866" href="#FNanchor_866" class="label">[866]</a> Knowles, p. 120. Elton, Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_867" href="#FNanchor_867" class="label">[867]</a> Cited in Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 371.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_868" href="#FNanchor_868" class="label">[868]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 497.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_869" href="#FNanchor_869" class="label">[869]</a> Love will overcome all things.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_870" href="#FNanchor_870" class="label">[870]</a> Winthrop, Hutchinson, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_871" href="#FNanchor_871" class="label">[871]</a> Knowles, p. 295.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_872" href="#FNanchor_872" class="label">[872]</a> Elton, p. 127. Hutchinson, Elliott.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_873" href="#FNanchor_873" class="label">[873]</a> Ibid. Knowles, Hist. Col., vol. 2, p. 121.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_874" href="#FNanchor_874" class="label">[874]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_875" href="#FNanchor_875" class="label">[875]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_876" href="#FNanchor_876" class="label">[876]</a> Rhode Island Colony Records.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_877" href="#FNanchor_877" class="label">[877]</a> Morton’s Memorial, p. 154.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_878" href="#FNanchor_878" class="label">[878]</a> See Hutchinson, vol. 1, p. 38.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_879" href="#FNanchor_879" class="label">[879]</a> Elton’s Life of Williams, p. 54. Knowles, Winthrop.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_880" href="#FNanchor_880" class="label">[880]</a> Gammel, p. 182.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_881" href="#FNanchor_881" class="label">[881]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, pp. 376, 377.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_882" href="#FNanchor_882" class="label">[882]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 80.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_883" href="#FNanchor_883" class="label">[883]</a> Ibid., p. 136.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_884" href="#FNanchor_884" class="label">[884]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 383.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_885" href="#FNanchor_885" class="label">[885]</a> Winthrop’s Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_886" href="#FNanchor_886" class="label">[886]</a> Ibid., Bancroft, Elliot, Palfrey, Hutchinson. They landed
in October, 1635.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_887" href="#FNanchor_887" class="label">[887]</a> See Encyclopedia Americana, Appleton’s Encyclopedia, English
Encyclopedia.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_888" href="#FNanchor_888" class="label">[888]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, Palfrey, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_889" href="#FNanchor_889" class="label">[889]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 436.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_890" href="#FNanchor_890" class="label">[890]</a> Winthrop, p. 170.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_891" href="#FNanchor_891" class="label">[891]</a> Ibid., p. 173, Palfrey, Trumbull’s Hist. Conn., Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_892" href="#FNanchor_892" class="label">[892]</a> Trumbull, Mather’s Magnalia.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_893" href="#FNanchor_893" class="label">[893]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 158.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_894" href="#FNanchor_894" class="label">[894]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, pp. 249, 250.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_895" href="#FNanchor_895" class="label">[895]</a> Palfrey, Bancroft, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_896" href="#FNanchor_896" class="label">[896]</a> Palfrey, Winthrop, Elliot, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_897" href="#FNanchor_897" class="label">[897]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 136.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_898" href="#FNanchor_898" class="label">[898]</a> Elliot, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_899" href="#FNanchor_899" class="label">[899]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_900" href="#FNanchor_900" class="label">[900]</a> Winthrop, pp. 177-179.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_901" href="#FNanchor_901" class="label">[901]</a> New England’s First Fruits, vol. 1. Quincy’s Boston, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_902" href="#FNanchor_902" class="label">[902]</a> Ibid., Hutchinson, Hubbard, Mather’s Magnalia.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_903" href="#FNanchor_903" class="label">[903]</a> The nation’s safety. See Magnalia, vol. 2, p. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_904" href="#FNanchor_904" class="label">[904]</a> See Magnalia, vol. 2, p. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_905" href="#FNanchor_905" class="label">[905]</a> “Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros.” <span class="smcap">Horace.</span></p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_906" href="#FNanchor_906" class="label">[906]</a> Winthrop, p. 132.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_907" href="#FNanchor_907" class="label">[907]</a> Ibid., Palfrey, Bancroft, Trumbull.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_908" href="#FNanchor_908" class="label">[908]</a> Memorial, pp. 239, 240.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_909" href="#FNanchor_909" class="label">[909]</a> Trumbull, Winthrop, Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_910" href="#FNanchor_910" class="label">[910]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 396.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_911" href="#FNanchor_911" class="label">[911]</a> Trumbull, vol. 1. Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 81.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_912" href="#FNanchor_912" class="label">[912]</a> Bradford, Hubbard, Morton.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_913" href="#FNanchor_913" class="label">[913]</a> Magnalia, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_914" href="#FNanchor_914" class="label">[914]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 396.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_915" href="#FNanchor_915" class="label">[915]</a> Palfrey, Trumbull, Bancroft. Elliot, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_916" href="#FNanchor_916" class="label">[916]</a> Hubbard, Palfrey, Elliot, Mather.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_917" href="#FNanchor_917" class="label">[917]</a> Trumbull, vol. 1. Hubbard, Hist. Col.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_918" href="#FNanchor_918" class="label">[918]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_919" href="#FNanchor_919" class="label">[919]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 88.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_920" href="#FNanchor_920" class="label">[920]</a> Hubbard, p. 321. Hazard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_921" href="#FNanchor_921" class="label">[921]</a> “The settlers met in Mr. Newman’s barn,” etc. Elliot, vol.
1, p. 242.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_922" href="#FNanchor_922" class="label">[922]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 83.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_923" href="#FNanchor_923" class="label">[923]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_924" href="#FNanchor_924" class="label">[924]</a> Bradford, Morton’s Memorial, Thatcher, Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_925" href="#FNanchor_925" class="label">[925]</a> Ibid., Prince, Hazard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_926" href="#FNanchor_926" class="label">[926]</a> Increase Mather’s Early Hist. of New England, p. 121, et
seq.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_927" href="#FNanchor_927" class="label">[927]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_928" href="#FNanchor_928" class="label">[928]</a> Elton’s Life of Roger Williams, p. 54.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_929" href="#FNanchor_929" class="label">[929]</a> Elton’s life of Roger Williams, p. 54. Elliot, vol. 1, p. 210.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_930" href="#FNanchor_930" class="label">[930]</a> Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_931" href="#FNanchor_931" class="label">[931]</a> I. Mather’s Early Hist., etc. Palfrey, Bancroft, Elliot, Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_932" href="#FNanchor_932" class="label">[932]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_933" href="#FNanchor_933" class="label">[933]</a> White’s Incidents, p. 59. I. Mather, Palfrey, Hubbard, Winthrop.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_934" href="#FNanchor_934" class="label">[934]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_935" href="#FNanchor_935" class="label">[935]</a> Chap. 17, p. 215, <span lang="la">et seq.</span></p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_936" href="#FNanchor_936" class="label">[936]</a> Bradford, Morton’s Memorial, Hubbard, White.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_937" href="#FNanchor_937" class="label">[937]</a> Winthrop, pp. 189, 190.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_938" href="#FNanchor_938" class="label">[938]</a> Palfrey, White, Elliot, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_939" href="#FNanchor_939" class="label">[939]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, pp. 458, 459.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_940" href="#FNanchor_940" class="label">[940]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, pp. 458, 459. I. Mather, Prince, Introduction
to Mason’s Hist. of the Pequod War.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_941" href="#FNanchor_941" class="label">[941]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_942" href="#FNanchor_942" class="label">[942]</a> Gardiner’s Relations, etc., in Mass. Hist. Rep., 23.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_943" href="#FNanchor_943" class="label">[943]</a> Ibid., p. 143. Trumbull’s Hist. Connecticut, vol. 1, p. 76.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_944" href="#FNanchor_944" class="label">[944]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 462.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_945" href="#FNanchor_945" class="label">[945]</a> I. Mather, Gardiner in Mass. Hist. Col., 23.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_946" href="#FNanchor_946" class="label">[946]</a> Mass. Hist. Col. Col. Rec., vol. 1, p. 192.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_947" href="#FNanchor_947" class="label">[947]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_948" href="#FNanchor_948" class="label">[948]</a> Plym. Col. Rec., vol. 1, pp. 60-62.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_949" href="#FNanchor_949" class="label">[949]</a> Palfrey, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>. Prince. Introduction to Mason’s Hist.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_950" href="#FNanchor_950" class="label">[950]</a> Mason’s Brief Hist., etc. Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_951" href="#FNanchor_951" class="label">[951]</a> Trumbull, Mather.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_952" href="#FNanchor_952" class="label">[952]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_953" href="#FNanchor_953" class="label">[953]</a> Ibid., Hubbard, Trumbull, Mather.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_954" href="#FNanchor_954" class="label">[954]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 164.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_955" href="#FNanchor_955" class="label">[955]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 465.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_956" href="#FNanchor_956" class="label">[956]</a> Ibid., Mason, Underhill.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_957" href="#FNanchor_957" class="label">[957]</a> Palfrey, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_958" href="#FNanchor_958" class="label">[958]</a> Mason’s Brief Account, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_959" href="#FNanchor_959" class="label">[959]</a> Ibid., Palfrey, Elliot, I. Mather, Winthrop, Hubbard, Hutchinson.
Two of the English were killed, and upwards of forty—more
than half of the force—were wounded.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_960" href="#FNanchor_960" class="label">[960]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 467.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_961" href="#FNanchor_961" class="label">[961]</a> Mason, Hubbard, Hazard, Trumbull.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_962" href="#FNanchor_962" class="label">[962]</a> Ibid., Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_963" href="#FNanchor_963" class="label">[963]</a> Trumbull, Mason, Winthrop, Hist. Coll.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_964" href="#FNanchor_964" class="label">[964]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 257. Trumbull.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_965" href="#FNanchor_965" class="label">[965]</a> Ibid. Hutchinson, vol. 1, p. 80. Winthrop, vol. 1. Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_966" href="#FNanchor_966" class="label">[966]</a> Uhden’s New England Theocracy, p. 135.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_967" href="#FNanchor_967" class="label">[967]</a> Winthrop, Hutchinson, Hubbard, Col. Records, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_968" href="#FNanchor_968" class="label">[968]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 389.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_969" href="#FNanchor_969" class="label">[969]</a> Ibid., p. 386.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_970" href="#FNanchor_970" class="label">[970]</a> Uhden, Winthrop, Hutchinson, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_971" href="#FNanchor_971" class="label">[971]</a> Shepherd’s Lamentation, 2.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_972" href="#FNanchor_972" class="label">[972]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 387.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_973" href="#FNanchor_973" class="label">[973]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 387.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_974" href="#FNanchor_974" class="label">[974]</a> There are few controversies where a woman is not at the
bottom of them.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_975" href="#FNanchor_975" class="label">[975]</a> See Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 388.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_976" href="#FNanchor_976" class="label">[976]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 472, <span lang="la">et seq.</span></p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_977" href="#FNanchor_977" class="label">[977]</a> Winthrop, vol. 1, p. 200.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_978" href="#FNanchor_978" class="label">[978]</a> Ibid., Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_979" href="#FNanchor_979" class="label">[979]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, p. 473.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_980" href="#FNanchor_980" class="label">[980]</a> Ibid. Magnalia, vol. 2, p. 516.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_981" href="#FNanchor_981" class="label">[981]</a> Ibid., Elliot, Hutchinson, Uhden.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_982" href="#FNanchor_982" class="label">[982]</a> Palfrey, Winthrop, Elliot, Hubbard, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_983" href="#FNanchor_983" class="label">[983]</a> Ibid., Col. Records.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_984" href="#FNanchor_984" class="label">[984]</a> Magnalia, vol. 2, p. 509.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_985" href="#FNanchor_985" class="label">[985]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 263.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_986" href="#FNanchor_986" class="label">[986]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_987" href="#FNanchor_987" class="label">[987]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_988" href="#FNanchor_988" class="label">[988]</a> Fuller’s Ch. Hist. of England, vol. 2, pp. 514, 515, et. seq.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_989" href="#FNanchor_989" class="label">[989]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_990" href="#FNanchor_990" class="label">[990]</a> Uhden, p. 98.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_991" href="#FNanchor_991" class="label">[991]</a> Winthrop, vol. 1, p. 203. Hubbard, Palfrey, Hazard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_992" href="#FNanchor_992" class="label">[992]</a> Winthrop, vol. 1, p. 203. Hubbard, Palfrey, Hazard, Col.
Records.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_993" href="#FNanchor_993" class="label">[993]</a> Palfrey, vol. 1, pp. 475, 476. Winthrop.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_994" href="#FNanchor_994" class="label">[994]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_995" href="#FNanchor_995" class="label">[995]</a> Ibid., Bancroft, Elliot, Hutchinson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_996" href="#FNanchor_996" class="label">[996]</a> Ibid. Uhden, p. 96.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_997" href="#FNanchor_997" class="label">[997]</a> Winthrop, Palfrey.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_998" href="#FNanchor_998" class="label">[998]</a> Cited in Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 390.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_999" href="#FNanchor_999" class="label">[999]</a> C. Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 2, p. 510. Palfrey, Hubbard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1000" href="#FNanchor_1000" class="label">[1000]</a> Ibid., Hutchinson’s Coll., Neale’s Hist. of New England.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1001" href="#FNanchor_1001" class="label">[1001]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 267.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1002" href="#FNanchor_1002" class="label">[1002]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 390.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1003" href="#FNanchor_1003" class="label">[1003]</a> C. Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 2, p. 512.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1004" href="#FNanchor_1004" class="label">[1004]</a> Winthrop in Hutchinson’s Coll.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1005" href="#FNanchor_1005" class="label">[1005]</a> Winthrop’s Journal.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1006" href="#FNanchor_1006" class="label">[1006]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 391.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1007" href="#FNanchor_1007" class="label">[1007]</a> Battles of the Churches.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1008" href="#FNanchor_1008" class="label">[1008]</a> Magnalia, vol. 2, p. 508.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1009" href="#FNanchor_1009" class="label">[1009]</a> Magnalia, vol. 2, p. 512.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1010" href="#FNanchor_1010" class="label">[1010]</a> Knowles’ Life of Williams, Elton. Mrs. Hutchinson, some
years after her exile, suffered a melancholy fate, being tomahawked
by the savages. See Bancroft, vol. 1, pp. 393, 394.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1011" href="#FNanchor_1011" class="label">[1011]</a> Johnson’s Wonder-working Providence, p. 96.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1012" href="#FNanchor_1012" class="label">[1012]</a> Banvard, p. 200.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1013" href="#FNanchor_1013" class="label">[1013]</a> Thatcher’s New Plymouth, Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1014" href="#FNanchor_1014" class="label">[1014]</a> Charter and Laws of New Plymouth.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1015" href="#FNanchor_1015" class="label">[1015]</a> Ibid., Banvard.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1016" href="#FNanchor_1016" class="label">[1016]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1017" href="#FNanchor_1017" class="label">[1017]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1018" href="#FNanchor_1018" class="label">[1018]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1019" href="#FNanchor_1019" class="label">[1019]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1020" href="#FNanchor_1020" class="label">[1020]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1021" href="#FNanchor_1021" class="label">[1021]</a> Ibid.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1022" href="#FNanchor_1022" class="label">[1022]</a> Banvard, p. 211.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1023" href="#FNanchor_1023" class="label">[1023]</a> Charter and Laws, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1024" href="#FNanchor_1024" class="label">[1024]</a> Banvard, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1025" href="#FNanchor_1025" class="label">[1025]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, pp. 183, 184.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1026" href="#FNanchor_1026" class="label">[1026]</a> Chap. 12, p. 151.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1027" href="#FNanchor_1027" class="label">[1027]</a> Winthrop, vol. 1.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p lang="la"><a id="Footnote_1028" href="#FNanchor_1028" class="label">[1028]</a> “Quo quis in republicâ majorem dignitatis gradum adeptus
est, eo Deum colat submissius.”</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p lang="grc"><a id="Footnote_1029" href="#FNanchor_1029" class="label">[1029]</a> Τέχνη πυβερνητικὴ.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1030" href="#FNanchor_1030" class="label">[1030]</a> He died in 1657, in his sixty-ninth year.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1031" href="#FNanchor_1031" class="label">[1031]</a> Thatcher, Wilson, Mather, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1032" href="#FNanchor_1032" class="label">[1032]</a> Plymouth Pilgrims, p. 227.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1033" href="#FNanchor_1033" class="label">[1033]</a> Magnalia, vol. 1, pp. 113, 114.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1034" href="#FNanchor_1034" class="label">[1034]</a> Letter to John Winthrop the Younger, cited in Magnalia, vol.
1, p. 161.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1035" href="#FNanchor_1035" class="label">[1035]</a> Elliot. Life of J. Winthrop, by R. C. Winthrop. Boston, 1866.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1036" href="#FNanchor_1036" class="label">[1036]</a> Williams’ Letter to Mason. Knowles, Elton.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1037" href="#FNanchor_1037" class="label">[1037]</a> Wilson, p. 494.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1038" href="#FNanchor_1038" class="label">[1038]</a> Hutchinson, vol. 1, p. 23.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1039" href="#FNanchor_1039" class="label">[1039]</a> Wilson.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1040" href="#FNanchor_1040" class="label">[1040]</a> Shawmut; or the Settlement of Boston, p. 86.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1041" href="#FNanchor_1041" class="label">[1041]</a> Hutchinson, vol. 1, p. 40.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1042" href="#FNanchor_1042" class="label">[1042]</a> See his Sonnet in Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 134.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1043" href="#FNanchor_1043" class="label">[1043]</a> Elliot, vol. 1, p. 170.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1044" href="#FNanchor_1044" class="label">[1044]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, p. 383.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1045" href="#FNanchor_1045" class="label">[1045]</a> Bancroft, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1046" href="#FNanchor_1046" class="label">[1046]</a> Hubbard, cited in Elliot, vol. 1, pp. 173, 174.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1047" href="#FNanchor_1047" class="label">[1047]</a> Cicero, Orati Pro. Plan.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1048" href="#FNanchor_1048" class="label">[1048]</a> Hutchinson, vol. 1, p. 91. Mass. Historical Coll., vol. 1, 23.
Neale’s New England.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1049" href="#FNanchor_1049" class="label">[1049]</a> Johnson, Mather, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1050" href="#FNanchor_1050" class="label">[1050]</a> Mass. Hist. Coll., vol. 1, p. 246, <span lang="la">et seq.</span></p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1051" href="#FNanchor_1051" class="label">[1051]</a> Ibid., Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1052" href="#FNanchor_1052" class="label">[1052]</a> Winthrop, vol. 2, p. 119.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1053" href="#FNanchor_1053" class="label">[1053]</a> Felt, vol. 1, p. 481.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1054" href="#FNanchor_1054" class="label">[1054]</a> Winthrop, vol. 2, p. 25.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1055" href="#FNanchor_1055" class="label">[1055]</a> Bancroft, vol. 1, pp. 416, 417.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1056" href="#FNanchor_1056" class="label">[1056]</a> Bancroft, ubi sup.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1057" href="#FNanchor_1057" class="label">[1057]</a> Mather’s Magnalia, vol. 1, p. 160. Palfrey, Hubbard, etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1058" href="#FNanchor_1058" class="label">[1058]</a> Hutchinson, Winthrop, Felt.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1059" href="#FNanchor_1059" class="label">[1059]</a> Ibid. Palfrey, Elliot, Bancroft.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1060" href="#FNanchor_1060" class="label">[1060]</a> Hubbard, p. 466. Col. Rec., etc.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1061" href="#FNanchor_1061" class="label">[1061]</a> W. Phillips.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1062" href="#FNanchor_1062" class="label">[1062]</a> Records in Hazard, vol. 2. Winthrop, Hubbard, Morton.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1063" href="#FNanchor_1063" class="label">[1063]</a> Bancroft, <span lang="la">ut antea</span>.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1064" href="#FNanchor_1064" class="label">[1064]</a> Hubbard, Hazard, Hutchinson, Morton, Bradford.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1065" href="#FNanchor_1065" class="label">[1065]</a> Hist. Coll., Col. Records, Elliot.</p>

</div>

<div class="footnote">

<p><a id="Footnote_1066" href="#FNanchor_1066" class="label">[1066]</a> The half century which succeeded this act of union was singularly
checkered. In this time four momentous events occurred.
The first of these, in point of time, was the persecution of the
Quakers. The early advocates of this sect in New England displayed
little of the mild philosophy and statesmanlike benevolence
of Penn and his modern disciples; and, indeed, “the first and
most noisy exponents of any popular sect are apt to be men of
little consideration.” To this rule the first Quakers of Massachusetts
were no exception. They knew the public opinion of the
province; they knew the laws which were put into the statute-book
to curb heresy; yet they broke through the restraints of sentiment,
and contemned the laws—not mildly, but with harsh,
violent, and often indecent obstinacy. Persecution, under any
circumstances, is wrong, and the theocratic principles of the Massachusetts
colonists were far from being either just or necessary.
Yet granting all this, and it has still been well said that, “if the
essential guilt of persecution would be aggravated when aimed
against the quiet, patient philanthropist of to-day, it does not follow
that it would be attended with like aggravation, however wicked
else, when the subject was the mischievous madman of two centuries
ago, who went raving through the city reviling authority,
inveighing against the law and order of the time, running naked in
the streets, and rudely interrupting divine service in the churches,
as many called Quakers, of both sexes, did in 1656 and onwards.
The duty of toleration stops short of the permission of such indecency;
nor does it suffer men, for conscience’ sake, or to gain a
name like Abraham, to sacrifice their sons, as one of these Friends
was proceeding to do in 1658, when the neighbors, alarmed by the
boy’s cries, broke into the house in time to balk the fanatic.”
Still, it must be confessed that there was a better way than the
magistrates of Massachusetts took, and one more efficient in curbing
this fanaticism, than the pillory, mutilation statutes, and the
death penalty; and this Roger Williams proved in Rhode Island,
and the younger Winthrop demonstrated in Connecticut—in both
of which colonies there was freedom of religious opinion, and yet
there were few Quakers.</p>

<p>That furious Indian war, known as “King Philip’s war,” occurred
in 1675. It originated in the same deep-rooted feeling of
jealousy and hatred—begotten of dispossession and imagined
wrong—that caused the Pequod war. Massasoit died about 1661.
He was succeeded by his son Alexander, who was, on his death,
succeeded by his brother Philip, the hero of the struggle. This
sagacious chieftain saw that the whites were grasping; that his
corn-lands and hunting-grounds were rapidly being usurped; that
rum was poisoning his warriors; and he panted for revenge. So
he gave his days and nights to the organization of a conspiracy.
“He spared no arts; he lived but for one purpose, and that was
to unite the Indians, split into numberless clans, into one body,
for the destruction of the encroaching pale-faces.” Philip was
largely successful, and the ensuing conflict was bitter, doubtful,
and prolonged. But eventually civilization and discipline triumphed.
The great sagamore was slain, and peace once more
brooded over mutilated and wailing New England—peace insured
by the definitive subjection of the Indian tribes.</p>

<p>In 1683, James II. abrogated the Massachusetts charter; three
years later, Sir Edmund Andros arrived, armed with the king’s
commission to take upon himself the absolute government of New
England. Andros at once commenced to play the despot. He
shackled the press; he imprisoned men for their religious opinions;
he endeavored to get possession of the charter of Connecticut—which,
however, was hidden in the “charter-oak” at Hartford,
a circumstance which has made the tree immortal; he denied
the colonists the most common civil rights, and asserted the
highest doctrines of arbitrary taxation. The colonies were ripe
for insurrection, when, in 1688, news came of the landing and coronation
of William of Orange. Instantly Andros was deposed, and
flung, broken and dishonored, out of New England. In 1691,
King William granted Massachusetts a new charter; but in this
he reserved the right of appointing a colonial governor, allowed
appeals to be made to the English courts, freed all Protestant
religions, and confirmed the annexation of Plymouth to Massachusetts—an
annexation which Plymouth had decreed in 1690. This
charter robbed the colonists of several prerogatives which had betokened
independence, and was continued in substance until the
dawn of the Revolution. The same policy was pursued throughout
New England.</p>

<p>It was in the years 1691-2 that what has been called the “Salem
witchcraft epidemic” occurred. In that age the belief in
witches was general and strong. In 1644, ’5, and ’6, England hanged
fifteen persons accused of witchcraft in one batch at Chelmsford,
sixteen at Yarmouth, and sixty in Suffolk. In Sweden, in 1670,
there was a panic about witches; and in one town, Mahra, seventy
persons were charged with this offence, and spite of their protestations
of innocence, most of them were executed. Fifteen children
were hung on their own confession; and fifty others were condemned
to be whipped every Sunday for a twelvemonth. Even so
late as 1697, five years after the Salem troubles, seven persons
were hung in Scotland as witches, and that too upon the unsupported
testimony of a single child eleven years old.</p>

<p>New England, then, was not alone in her belief in witches, or
in her punishment of them. She merely shared the opinion of
such consummate scholars and noble thinkers as Sir Thomas
Browne and Sir Matthew Hale. Many things combined to increase
this belief. James I. had published a book on demonology. Books
containing rules for binding witches were in wide circulation.
The practice and the opinion of centuries substantiated these
phantoms. And the recent excitement in Sweden and England
was certain to cause a ripple in America. Men’s minds were thus
prepared for an epidemic. As early as the year 1688, a case of
supposed witchcraft occurred in Boston. An old half-witted Irish
woman was charged with having bewitched the children of John
Goodwin, and she was soon hanged. The witches then quit Boston,
and in 1691-2 appeared at Salem. Children began to act
oddly, getting “into holes, creeping under chairs, and uttering
foolish speeches”—all of which were esteemed as tokens of bewitchment.
Inquiries were at once and everywhere made for
witches. The children accused at random. This woman was
said to be a witch, and that man. Salem was aghast. Startled
women passed from house to house, repeating and enlarging every
idle tale. Soon the excitement was unprecedented. Fasting and
prayer failed to exorcise the “spirits.” Then the witches were
imprisoned, tried, condemned, executed. A reign of terror commenced.
All lived in fear; accusation was equivalent to proof;
there seemed no safety. Many, spurred by fear, acknowledged
themselves to be witches when accused, thinking thus to save
their lives; others hastened to complain that they were bewitched;
and only those who avowed themselves to belong to one of these
two classes could be sure of life. Still the panic spread. Andover
was infected. New England at large began to shudder. The
executioner was busy. And it was not until January, 1692, that
the panic began to abate. Nineteen persons had been hung; one
had been pressed to death; many had been condemned; hundreds
had been imprisoned. So remorseless, so cruel is panic.
But the excess cured itself; the reaction was great; men began to
lament the part they had played; and some made open confession
in church of their grievous fault and weakness. The infatuation
grew perhaps from the tricks or the craziness of the “bewitched”
children; perhaps from the folly or the superstition of
their parents. Whatever its cause, its effects were sad, and they
are pregnant with warning.</p>

<p>It is sometimes said that these doings sprang naturally from
the theology and temper of New England. Rather, they were
directly counter to both. They were a weak and foolish importation
from Europe; and they prevailed in New England only for a
short season. Soon her sons outgrew such folly; and nowhere in
Christendom was the popular revolution against witchcraft so
speedy and complete as in the Puritan colonies.</p>

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<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter"></div>

<div class="p4 transnote">
<a id="TN"></a>
<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE</strong></p>

<p>Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been 
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.</p>

<p>Some accents and hyphens in words have been silently removed, some 
added, when a predominant preference was found in the original book.</p>

<p>Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.</p>

<p>
<a href="#tn-7">Pg 7</a>: ‘The Nansets’ replaced by ‘The Nausets’.<br>
<a href="#tn-106">Pg 106</a>: ‘opprobious speeches’ replaced by ‘opprobrious speeches’.<br>
<a href="#tn-111">Pg 111</a>: ‘to sow and hill’ replaced by ‘to sow and till’.<br>
<a href="#tn-117">Pg 117</a>: ‘the earthern floor’ replaced by ‘the earthen floor’.<br>
<a href="#tn-124">Pg 124</a>: ‘named Aspiret’ replaced by ‘named Aspinet’.<br>
<a href="#tn-124a">Pg 124</a>: ‘bade Aspiret a hasty’ replaced by ‘bade Aspinet a hasty’.<br>
<a href="#tn-125">Pg 125</a>: ‘Squanto, Takamahamon’ replaced by ‘Squanto, Tokamahamon’.<br>
<a href="#tn-151">Pg 151</a>: ‘passed in in 1632’ replaced by ‘passed in 1632’.<br>
<a href="#tn-174">Pg 174</a>: ‘clams, and muscles’ replaced by ‘clams, and mussels’.<br>
<a href="#tn-191">Pg 191</a>: ‘They had had been left’ replaced by ‘They had been left’.<br>
<a href="#tn-201">Pg 201</a>: ‘sprang aleak’ replaced by ‘sprang a leak’.<br>
<a href="#tn-217">Pg 217</a>: ‘malicious inuendoes’ replaced by ‘malicious innuendoes’.<br>
<a href="#tn-258">Pg 258</a>: ‘seal of Soloomon’ replaced by ‘seal of Solomon’.<br>
<a href="#tn-312">Pg 312</a>: ‘wise statemanship’ replaced by ‘wise statesmanship’.<br>
<a href="#tn-326">Pg 326</a>: ‘both of Massachusets’ replaced by ‘both of Massachusetts’.<br>
<a href="#tn-339">Pg 339</a>: ‘with sevral other’ replaced by ‘with several other’.<br>
<a href="#tn-373">Pg 373</a>: ‘the evenging of’ replaced by ‘the avenging of’.<br>
<a href="#tn-46">Footnote 57</a>, Pg 46: ‘March 1, 1864-5’ replaced by ‘March 1, 1625’.<br>
</p>
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<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PILGRIM FATHERS OF NEW ENGLAND: A HISTORY ***</div>
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